I didn't want to go right from the start. Before we left home I spotted my two year-old bathing suit in a bag. Without thinking, I picked it up and hurled it across the room. It landed on a dresser and slid behind it. I didn't bother to get it and put it back in the drawer.
I told my parents it didn't fit me well, but the real reason I had done it was because I hated my body. It was too fat and much too out of proportion for me even to wear shorts, much less a bathing suit.
I kept saying over and over to myself (and occasionally out loud) that it wasn't going to be any fun for me. I knew what would happen as soon as I got there. I would take one look at all the bathers with their bikinis and tanned skin and I would go off and sulk.
I know myself very well, because that's exactly what happened. First thing I did was get mad at my dad for some petty reason, and I ended up going off in a huff to sit in my chair far away from everyone else. The real reason I was so mad had nothing to do with my dad. I was upset because I didn't think I looked like everyone else; I was too fat.
My mother came up to me. She always tried to get me out of these bad moods whenever I was in them. She asked me if I wanted to sit in the shade because it was cooler than in the sun. I said I didn't. She finally managed to convince me to go into the shade of a nearby tree, but I was even angrier than
before.
I sat for a while in my misery, when she came back and asked if I wanted to come with her to get a bathing suit.
"I don't want one," I said scowling. By this point I was very near to tears, but I tired not to show it. Smiling, she said that she just wanted to look and that I didn't have to get anything if I didn't want to.
Finally, to get her off my back, I reluctantly agreed. Still scowling, I made my way up to the little store with her. The store sold everything--from t-shirts to beach balls--that you could possibly need for a day on the beach. We stepped inside.
The first thing I saw was a guy about seventeen with big brown eyes and the cutest smile I'd ever seen. He was wearing a name tag, and I knew right then and there that I wouldn't even look at anything in this store.
Luckily, my mom also wanted a new bathing suit for herself and she began to look around.
"I'm just telling you now that I'm not going to try on any of these," I said to her.
"No?" she asked.
"No."
"What about this for me then?" she said, holding up a colourful one-piece. I shrugged indifferently.
As she went to try it on, I looked at the bathing suits and bikinis that were all meant for skinny people, not people like me. I turned away.
A little while later we exited the store. I, meanwhile, was back to sulking.
"Will you please go change into your shorts?" my mother pleaded. I looked away from her and didn't answer.
"Please," she said again, "you look so hot."
"Fine, I will!" I exploded angrily. I opened the door of our van and hopped into the back seat, slamming the door behind me. I had reached a rock bottom low of feeling sorry for myself. I was feeling upset, angry, alone, and mad at myself all at the same time.
I suddenly began to cry, hot tears of pain rolled down my cheeks. I knew I couldn't be this way any longer. I was causing everyone--including myself--too much unnecessary grief.
I reached out to my God; to Jesus.
"I need Your help," I said, my tears blurring my vision.
"I need your help," I couldn’t think of anything else to say; I could say nothing else. I said it over and over, directing it at my God, pleading for him to help me. He was the only one who could.
I calmed down as I saw my father coming to towards the parking lot. I stopped crying and dried my tears, hastily putting on my shorts and t-shirt.
"Are you almost done?" my dad asked as he came up to the van.
"I'm done," I said, putting on my shoes and stepping out of the van into the sunlight.
I squinted. Walking down to the water where the rest of my family was, I felt lighter somehow. It wasn't just the cooler clothes; I felt clearer and just less upset. It happened so suddenly. There is nothing else I can say about it, except that the power of prayer is now evident to me.
I found a ball and began to throw it back and forth between me and my sister. I didn't feel fat. I felt like me, loved and treasured by Jesus and a lot of other people.
I had a good time at the beach that day. I helped my sister build a sand castle and impressed upon my other sister the rules of water safety.
I also learned that although this is not the end of my struggle with my own body, I do not have to go about it alone. I can always count on Jesus and my family to love me no matter what and to help me when I need it, and that knowledge is worth so much to me.
God doesn't want me to feel bad or unhappy about the body He's given me. God made everyone, and in His Divine Sight, we are all perfect. I just have to remember that.
