My dad took us to Navajo Lake yesterday. It was wonderful. The sun was out, the water was smooth and clear. The wind was low. I loved every minute of it. We brought my daughter, and she took the the lake like a fish to water. She didn't fuss when put into the constricting life jacket, and she enjoyed the roar of the outboard motor and the splash of the water.
I spent much of my childhood at the lake, and it is good to see that my daughter will also build many memories there. I want her life to be filled with water skis, aloe, crawdads, and sand castles. I also want her to be comfortable in her skin at the lake, and that requires something of me.
For all of the positivity associated with the lake, there is the fact that many of the activities require the wearing of a swimming suit. As a kid this was no big deal. But I did hear my mom and aunts often complain about how fat they looked (uh, not at all by the way). Then, as I got older, my hips grew, and I got stretch marks. They were no big deal, until someone asked me what "happened" to my legs, as if I had been abused. It was then that I realized that I didn't look like I "should" in a swimming suit.
Following this I spent much of my adolescence nervous about my body (and in the words of Joy Nash, "I should have been wearing pink hot pants!"). Which brings me to this trip. I had fun, and I tried to water ski, after a two year hiatus. I didn't succeed (I kept drowning myself), and I began blaming my fat. I didn't blame my stupid mouth for staying open in the face of streaming water, nor did I blame my arms for being not strong enough to hold on. I blamed my fat, and I felt nervous about hanging out with my family. Then I reminded myself that I was at the lake to have fun with my daughter.
I decided to have fun, and to love my body.