Putting on a bikini can be intimidating for anyone, especially for women who aren't confident in their bodies.
Some women, like this gorgeous grandma, wear two-piece bathing suits at every age, but others don't feel quite as comfortable in bikinis.
Many women choose to put on cover-ups or T-shirts in order to feel more comfortable.
Adrian Wood is one of those women — she used to wear bikinis at the beach all the time, but as she got a little older, she started covering up more.
Almost everyone can relate; when your body doesn't look exactly the way you want it to, you may not want to wear something that shows a lot of skin.
Adrian went to the beach with her daughter, and for the first time in years she decided not to wear a shirt to cover up her belly.
Then her daughter asked her a question that surprised her.
[H/T: Love What Matters]
Adrian posted about what happened on the Facebook page Love What Matters, where it quickly went viral.
Within a week, the post had over 28,000 reactions and 2,785 shares.
She wrote:
‘Are you going swimming? Where is your shirt?’ The questions of my daughter.
She turns 8 on Sunday, and she only knows a mother that swims in a shirt. When had I become that person?
You haven’t worn a bikini top in twenty something years. Why not?
Your stomach hasn't seen the light of day since you were thirty 30 pounds lighter. Why not?
You used to be so confident, I tell myself.
I used to love myself.
Why does it matter? Does it even matter? Who cares?
She does.
The little girl that scrutinizes her mother at every step, every turn, every crossroad and yes, even every shirt.
So, today I took it off and I was more uneasy than I care to admit, ashamed almost. Pale belly, full breasts, thick torso, I haven’t been that exposed on a beach since I became a mother. Why not?
It's that voice.
The ones that chastises me to cover up.
The one that whispers in my ear, 'you're not so young anymore.'
The one that remembers every flaw, every dimple, every soft place.
You are flawed, I tell myself. Scars, battle wounds, a C-section scar, none are pretty but they tell a beautiful story.
You are soft, I tell myself. Four babies burrowed their downy heads into my chest many an evening.
You are older, I tell myself. I'm in my forties now and, with age, I've matured and learned and am still learning to silence the voice that says you're not enough.
I am enough. I am more than enough. I am strong. I am imperfect and I love with my whole heart.
Where's my shirt?
Well, my darling, I don't need it anymore.
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