Body Shame at the Beach? : Apply This Like Organic Sunscreen

by Anita Avalos

Dear One,

Question: Does a day at the beach sometimes feel like anything but? Is it often tinged for you with negative body talk, comparison, and envy? Do you stop yourself from wearing, being, and doing what you’d really long to do because of body shame?

If any of this sounds familiar, this post is for you!

Click below to listen to the audio version or read on below!

Recently, I had the most unusual day at the beach, one that I had longed for and even came close to experiencing so many times in the not so distant past, but in my heart of hearts, knew I hadn’t fully embodied.

Here’s what it was: I spent an entire beach day in total body acceptance, peace, and with zero judgment of myself, of my body. One of the most freeing experiences of my adult life.

I didn’t get there because I finally achieved a perfectly flat belly or because my butt had miraculously become free of cellulite or the jiggles. And it didn’t happen because some one else affirmed me of my beauty, breast size, shape, or level of fitness.

On that Sunday, the heavens didn’t open up.

To be honest, I didn’t even know it was going to happen.

Yet there I was, almost awe struck by how the internal choir that at one time in my life ever so loudly (and chronically) belted out their most popular hit, “You Are SO Not Enough” and at other times would lightly hum, “You Could Improve Just a Little Bit More”, was suddenly silent that day. I mean, the beach was one of their favorite places to perform. But on that day, for the entire day, all that was left was…me.

This me also had the right and the wherewithal to not feel the need to apologize for her very stringy bikini…because I have felt the same sense of shame and self-loathing around THAT in much of the same way I would feel it when I was heavier or in just everyday, low-degree body critiquing. That dialogue went something like this: “If you really cared about women and improving body image, you’d cover up a bit. Just because you weigh less now, do you think you really should be wearing THAT? What are you saying about women, sexuality, and objectification by wearing that? Don’t you care if you make other women feel uncomfortable? Some feminist you are!”

That voice would steal my joy, take me right out of my body, out of my own experience.

This voice has some major body image issues.

Here were some its common “body equations”, instructions it provided on how I should think of myself:

Weigh “too much” (whatever that meant!) equated to: hate myself for how I looked.

Weigh less equated to: STILL hate myself for how I looked because I could still do better.

Wear a bikini that I fully enjoyed and liked because it made ME feel good to have it on equated to: Well, you guessed it…I should still hate myself because I was feeding the problem as opposed to creating a solution for women to achieve greater body positivity.

To that voice, I’d like to say screw you.

That voice speaks in the language of Shame, Body Shame to be exact. The voice and those fears have robbed me and countless women from being fully present in their lives, experiencing themselves, and having everyday magic occur.

But on that Sunday, I came to the grand realization that me enjoying my body, my shape, in THAT stringy bikini was actually on the of the best ways I could walk my talk and be an example for other women of all shapes, sizes, and bathing suit preferences of what an embodied, happy, feeling-good-in-her-skin woman looks like. I always had that right, at all my different sizes and stages of life. That bikini and this current state of my body had nothing to do with it. It’s just that I was finally letting myself off the hook, cutting myself some slack, and saying yes to another layer of body freedom.

Shitting on myself for loving on myself was certainly not the way to bring the body acceptance movement one step further for anyone, especially me.

I had to ask myself what would my Spirit Animal do.

My Spirit Animal, by the way, is me, at like age 4-5 years old.
I freaking love her.

Little Anita loved swimsuits of all kinds and all colors. And water….beaches, swimming pools. She didn’t care. She was pretty much a mermaid; she HATED getting out of the water, especially the warm Gulf waters on a perfect summer’s day. She freely got sand in her toes, in her hair, and throughout her swimsuit. And it just so happened that Splash was one of her favorite movies.

She often wore little shorts and colorful skirts. Her fashion choices were based simply around the colors she liked and what felt fun to wear. She had no concept of worrying what other people thought of her (or worrying what she thought of herself) based on what she was wearing. She just delighted in herself. And she felt nothing but freedom in her body.

She played non-stop. She asked good questions…and climbed good trees. She fully enjoyed chocolate ice cream. She danced around a lot and memorized songs in an instant. Michael Jackson was her boyfriend. Her heart was a big as the sky, her laughter infectious.

The most beautiful woman she knew was her mom. And she idolized her big sis. Her Nana and Nano were everything to her. She had no idea that society judged her Nana because of her size; to her, Nana was love and happiness and home.

Little Anita wouldn’t have given a damn if you thought her suit was too much of anything. She also wouldn’t have had the Body Shame Choir belting out their familiar tunes of body-loathing, fat phobia, or even softly chanting “Don’t Like Your Body Too Much…Because Other Women Won’t Like You and Men Will Harass You.” Hell, she didn’t even know the choir existed and had never heard their Greatest Hits, except when she overheard other women (like her mom) begin to sing them. Lucky for her, she hadn’t memorized those ones just yet.

She shined because she knew nothing other than to shine…and that was her greatest beauty.

And so, on that day, 37 year-old Anita and Little Anita were fully intertwined. I took a swim, a nap, a long walk without a cover-up, and even planted my beach chair at the shoreline for awhile to read, fully in my body…no apologies, no doubting, no feeling bad for what was “right” and what wasn’t “perfect”.

It might have been one of the best beach days I’ve had since my childhood.

On that day, I spent time looking around at all the different women, all the different bodies, all the different expressions of beauty, and all the different beachwear. And I questioned…I questioned how many women were enjoying their bodies, I mean REALLY enjoying their bodies, that day.

Was the Body Shame Choir singing in their heads? Or, was their very own Spirit Animal singing instead? Were they comparing their bodies to other women to feel better about themselves, envying other bodies, or making assumptions about the other women to validate their own beliefs? I secretly imagined what it would be like if I could turn all us back into 3 or 4 year old girls. What freedom might have occurred that day if we could have done that?

My heart ached for any woman who was feeling the weight of their inner critic, of the media, of self-doubt, of shame, of the vicious “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” dichotomy of beauty and womanhood. I had no idea who was fully free and who was feeling chained, but I know the feeling all too well, and for that reason, I wanted to send my love out there to all the women who are wanting to come home to themselves, who long to live without the choir in their heads.

One woman in particular grabbed my attention. Sitting to the right of me, in a beach chair, was an older woman covered up from head to toe, in layers, hiding her body. I would sneak glances at her, and notice her looking longingly towards the sea, a half smile pursed on her lips, her expression conveying her desire to be out there…but feeling like she couldn’t. Was there a sense of body shame holding her back? An ailment? Maybe I was totally wrong. Maybe she liked being where she was, in all her layers on that hot July day. But my hunch was that she wanted more, and for that, my heart broke a little.

On that Sunday, I experienced a tiny revolution for myself.

I loved being free from the Body Shame Choir.

I felt free to catch myself in the mirror before I had left the house that day and think, “You look great in your bikini, Sweetheart.” I felt free to see rolls in my lower belly each time I sat up to reapply sunscreen and not give a damn or focus on it. I loved how good it felt to simply be, to not worry about “negative” attention, but rather to pay attention to all the sensual delights that the beach was laying before me, just the way my Spirit Animal would have done without a second, self-deprecating thought.

As summer treks along, I hope this invites you into greater embodiment and full enjoyment of all the season’s delights.

Dear One, it is all too short. Why waste it in questioning, doubting, comparing, and holding back? But also, Dear One, re-imaging your Body Image and really breaking free is a journey. Take in your victories, little and big. Mine is ever evolving too, and each layer that I peel back feels like I am coming back to myself.
Keep edging the choir out.

Celebrate the days and moments when the volume is all the way down and all you can hear is your young Spirit Animal calling you to play, to swim, to mess up your hair, and know that your enjoyment of your body in no way puts another woman down and that no other woman’s beauty detracts from your own.

Let your Spirit Animal remind you that this was how you were born. Come back to that, your native state. The truth is we all get to be beautiful and deserve happiness…how about THAT?

Somehow you learned to put your body freedom aside. Perhaps now it’s about un-learning. It’s often in the unlearning that all the magic resides.