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"It was really hot this weekend. I mean, hotter than that opening scene of Troy where a naked Brad Pitt rises from his sleep like a phoenix rising from ashes. A phoenix with very big biceps. And awesome hair. As my chiildren happily splashed through wading pools, I envied their ability to enjoy the task at hand. They weren&amp;#039;t thinking, &amp;quot;I wonder if this Dora one-piece makes my butt look big?&amp;quot; They weren&amp;#039;t contemplating, &amp;quot;Hmm...do my abs look as tight as Spiderman&amp;#039;s? I bet I could get that 6 year old&amp;#039;s attention if I did a few more bench presses against the kiddie fountain.&amp;quot; Now of course I&amp;#039;m not a child anymore. I wouldn&amp;#039;t want my naive notions of life back anymore than I want my kids&amp;#039; innocence tarnished by societal body views. But there is something to be said for the real truth of children: That spirit and happiness far outweigh self-consciousness.  I have spunk in spades. But the carefree days of frolicking? No. And yet... this weekend... I felt younger than I had in years. I didn&amp;#039;t do much. Maybe that&amp;#039;s why. A bbq at the in-laws, some puttering around the kitchen. Dinners with Rex. I was so content just being with my little family. I didn&amp;#039;t stop and analyze everything about what is wrong with my life, the world, what I could fix, couldn&amp;#039;t fix and what exactly is the big obsession with Chihuahua dogs and purses here in L.A.? Like my kids in the water, I just was. I&amp;#039;d like that same freedom to extend to my body. I can&amp;#039;t say I&amp;#039;m obsessed with weight, but it&amp;#039;s hard, as a reformed perfectionist, to not think about making it better. I&amp;#039;m not 19 anymore, but I&amp;#039;m far from over the hill. I want to look good in my bathing suit. After all, it&amp;#039;s the closest I&amp;#039;m going to get to looking good in my birthday suit. But at the same time, when is enough enough? Eight more pounds? Eight pounds and muscled arms? A tan? Hair extensions? The fact is, I could do go to the gym for an hour every day, but I&amp;#039;m still going to look 38. A tone 38, but 38 none the less. JCK Motherscribe talks about it here where she bravely posts a beautiful picture of herself in a swimsuit. She was inspired to do so by Suzanne Reisman who wrote about it last month in regards to BlogHer - an annual convention of female bloggers taking place July 18, 19 and 20 in San Francisco. Like the Dove ads, this campaign is about real women and real bodies, not airbrushed versions of plastic people. As I type this, my husband is watching some car show. Before I sat down, he said, &amp;quot;Baby, when you&amp;#039;re done, lets have some fun before bed.&amp;quot; Hey, if he wants to dive in, I will, too. Maybe I&amp;#039;ll even dress up for him. Flippers and an Esther Williams plastic butterfly bathing cap? Ooooh, yeah. That screams sex, don&amp;#039;t ya think? Happy Monday. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a2340/when-my-bathing-suit-affects-m/>