I came across a photo of myself from my college days. On a trip to
The photo I found is of me, in the red stripper suit I wore in the contest.
Looking at the picture, particularly at my pre-baby body, I thought, “why didn’t I appreciate that girl more?”
If I could go back in time and speak to that girl in the
minuscule scrap of fabric bikini, first I’d say, “Damn girl, you look good!” and give her a catcall and a whistle or two.
Then, I’d say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not eating better. I’m sorry for drinking until you puked. Staying up all night when you needed sleep. Going to work or school when you were sick and needed rest.
For thinking that walking all over campus was enough exercise. For the brief time I smoked. For not wearing the glasses, not using sunscreen and the one time I had unprotected sex.
But mostly, I’m sorry I didn’t have more confidence and a better self image. Why did I spend so much time shaking my fist at your thighs and bemoaning your butt?
I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror back then, but looking at you now, with my stretch marks and mini muffin top, I’d give anything to have you back.
You with your tiny waist, flat stomach, curves in the right places and the girls up nice and high. That body was beautiful. That body was sexy. And I feel so badly for thinking it wasn't.