*Note: I am not trying to start a political debate. Nor am I trying to hurt anyone in my family or the people I knew growing up. This is me sharing my heart and it's about a personal choice that I am making for my family. I respect the decisions you make for yours.*
A few months ago a video went viral in which swimsuit designer
Jessica Rey talked about the evolution of the female swimsuit and the effect of
the bikini on today’s society.
And let me tell you, I thought her modest designs were cute
and agreed with much of what she said – but thought I was the exception.
You see, I grew up in bikinis. I grew up surrounded by bikinis. With a lake in our backyard, summer wardrobes consisted of
pajamas and swimsuits. We didn’t
need much else. Neighbors came by
in their boats, friends swam from dock to dock, and most of the women wore
bikinis. Thin, beautiful women, lying
on lawn chairs with Coppertone tanning oil and fashionable sunglasses while their
kids competed to make the biggest splash with their cannonballs.
It was life. It
was normal. Throwing on a pair of
shorts and walking to the neighbor’s house with no shirt was no big deal.
Then the girls hit puberty. There was a group of us, all with “perfectly” shaped mothers
weighing in around 100 pounds, and we were outgrowing them. Our mothers wouldn’t dare say anything
beyond a subtle warning about impending weight gain, but we felt it, and we
knew that it really wasn’t normal.
In the midst of all of this, we were boy crazy. Through our young years of observation,
we learned how to draw compliments or approving eyes with our bodies, and the
bikini became about more than cannonballs and suntans (and who can safely do a
cannonball in a bikini anyway?). I
remember going to a pool party in seventh grade, for the first time wearing a
bikini on a maturing feminine figure, not just that of a small girl. And my focus was one boy, and making sure he noticed me in
my new, barely there swimwear.
I went home disappointed. The party may have been fun – with water fights and barbecue
and friends hanging out… but I didn’t attract the boy, and I felt ugly and
worthless. Over the next few
years, though, I wore a lot of bikinis and attracted a lot of boys and to me
that was, as a woman, just what you did.
And when a boy I liked didn’t like me, I assumed it was because of my
body – my outward appearance. I
wasn’t tan enough, thin enough, pretty enough…
And man have I struggled through the years with being
“enough.” It wasn’t until college
that I learned that I was “enough” and loved
because I was a child of God.
Not because of how I looked or acted or how many boys were attracted to
me in a bikini.
Even so, I’ve struggled with this bikini debate. I liked
the attention I got when wearing them.
Don’t tell anyone, but I still
like the attention I get in a bikini, pregnant body aside. But as we expect our first child, I've had
to wrestle the whole idea and think about how we want to raise our children.
Do I want my son to hang out with the girls who are just
trying to get him drooling over their bodies? Do I want my daughter drawing that sort of attention? As I started to think about all this, I
just went back to the idea that it was life, it was normal, and I turned out
okay.
But I also know the paths I could have so easily taken. I listened to the lies that men would
only want me if I gave them my body.
In high school I was told by a family member she was surprised my
boyfriend was still with me since I was committed to waiting until marriage for
sex. Because that was the lie she
had been told and believed and my heart breaks for her.
While those sorts of thoughts might be “normal” in our
culture today, I realize I don’t really want our kids to be “normal.” I want them to know they are loved as
children of God.
For our daughters: that men who love them for their
integrity and faith are far supreme to those who lust over their bodies. For our sons: to seek God first, and
find women after God’s heart.
It may be radical or countercultural, but as I become a
mother, I may have to retire my bikinis (or save them for special times with my
husband – because after all, we were created to be sexual beings - one man and one woman – in
marriage). To set an example of modesty for
my children. To demonstrate to my
husband that he is special enough to be the only one to see me bare and
vulnerable. And perhaps, to bring
a little personal healing along the way.
“Do you not know that
your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have
received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a
price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.” – I Corinthians 6:19-20
