Dear Fellow Moms: Quit Complaining and Dive into the Pool

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Every summer, I’m bombarded with the same old laundry list of excuses and gripes. As the sun beams down and children around us make the biggest splashes, the moms settle into their lounge chairs, lamenting why they’re not taking the plunge. The kids start to quiet down, sensing the heavy air filled with their mothers’ concerns.

• My arms are too flabby.
• My belly isn’t flat enough.
• My thighs have dimples.
• I don’t want to mess up my hair.
• I’m not comfortable in my skin.
• I ate too many snacks this morning.
• My calves need toning.

The moms exchange their complaints, each trying to outdo the other with their self-criticisms, many stemming from the joys and challenges of motherhood, including nursing the very kids who are splashing around.

But not me. I’m in the water, toddler in tow, having a blast.

You might think, “This author must have a perfect figure.” Well, let me set the record straight: I’m not a fitness guru, and I don’t have a flawless physique.

I’ve got my share of imperfections, including cellulite on my thighs (thanks, genetics!), and I wear a two-piece that’s a size large to accommodate my curves. My lower back and stomach bear tattoos of blue-purple scars and red marks from my insulin pump. Yep, that’s right—there’s a medical device clipped to my suit, with tubing leading to my lower back, all to keep me alive.

Here’s the truth: those devices keep me going, and the marks on my body tell a story of resilience. They remind me of battles fought and won, and while they might fade, new ones will replace them. I’m not the most glamorous mom at the pool, often arriving with a lopsided ponytail and a swimsuit I snagged on sale, but I know what’s important.

By jumping into the pool, I’m teaching my kids that fun doesn’t hinge on having a “perfect” body. I’m showing them that beauty comes in all shapes and sizes, and that the scars and imperfections I carry are badges of honor, not shame. I refuse to let insecurities dictate my joy or teach my children that they should wait on the sidelines for some unattainable ideal.

I would love to be free of type 1 diabetes. In my mind, I toss my insulin supplies into the Grand Canyon while indulging in a funnel cake, fist pumping in victory. But this is my body, strong yet imperfect, and I embrace it.

Every woman has her insecurities. I’m choosing to own my story and not pass my doubts onto my children. They deserve to know that their worth isn’t tied to their appearance in a swimsuit.

So this summer, I’m diving in—splashing, laughing, and soaking up the sun. I hope you’ll join me!

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In summary, let’s celebrate our bodies, embrace our uniqueness, and teach our children to do the same. Life’s too short to sit on the sidelines!