I take several pictures of Patrick and Maddox and hardly ever ask for one with him. If I do ask, I take about seven before I’m content with it.
I’m getting too old. Too old to care about what others think of how I look in this swimsuit. These shorts. This dress. That shirt. I wasted much of my adolescent years wearing oversized sweatpants or unflattering tops to hide what I knew was an imperfect body. It’s taken me thirty years and ten plus months to realize that what’s more important than my body image is my son and his need to have a mother; one who plays with him at the park, who swims in the lake, who cheers him on, and shows him what it means to find value in who she is and not what she looks like. I’m taking back my confidence today.