What comes to you mind when you hear that term - "beach body"?
If you're anything like me, and/or you grew up anywhere not near a beach, your mind probably conjures up some image of the "perfect" body: young, skinny, in shape, tan, smooth, hair-free skin, etc.
The difference between this picture, and what I saw in the mirror (soft-and-squishy, blindingly-white, really-doesn't-like-shaving 20-something) always caused me some consternation at the idea of going to the beach. When people would speak longingly of a week at the beach, my mind instantly responded with "Yeah, right - maybe if I lost 30lbs, sun-bathed for a year, trained for a marathon, and was into Brazilian waxing!"
This mindset carried over into many other areas of my life - I didn't like going swimming, or jogging, or really doing anything that might call attention to the fact that my body was anything but "perfect." Even after a long struggle with bulimia, and several years of learning to take care of my body and not be ashamed of it, the thought of going to the beach scared me. Now, no one ever said you have to wear swim suits to the beach, but even the thought of being around other people so amazingly attractive that they enjoyed showing off their bodies, intimidated me beyond words.
These ideas, the picture I had in my head of a perfect body, how far I was from it, and how much I thought I should have it, seemed to be common threads I saw in the people around me. Living in a small college town meant there was little variation - you had your sorority girls, and you had your redneck chicks, and your white trash b******, and then the rest of us. It was ok to be "overweight" - if you liked being stuck in the same town for the rest of your life. It was ok to not be tan - if you were sick, or goth, or just really weird. And it was ok to not shave - if you liked shopping for comfort food in your pajamas at Wal-Mart in the middle of the night. (Incidentally, I really like doing that, but that's a bit beside the point.)
In short, you were either attractive - you had the "perfect beach body" - or you were nothing. Less than nothing, you were white trash. (Because apparently white people are the only people who get to be anything in Cookeville, but that's another story for another day.)
Before coming down to Charleston for the summer, I'd spent a few weekends here, and we'd gone to the beach a few times. But I mostly felt really out-of-place, because I KNEW I didn't have a beach body. And of course, everyone else could see it too.
It wasn't until I'd been here for a few weeks, watched the people around me, and gone to the beach a few more times, that it dawned on me: EVERYONE IN CHARLESTON HAS A BEACH BODY!
How was I to feel about this?!
Where were the distinctions between "people who looked good at the beach" and "people who need to wear one-pieces"?
At first I was a bit baffled, and to be honest, a bit lost. But it only took a short time for me to realize and revel in the freedom this brought. Not only was it acceptable to go to the beach without being "perfect," it was normal - everyone was doing it.
There's an honesty here that I appreciate.
I love that people would rather be comfortable than listen to marketers scream at them that they are "too fat," "too old," "too white," to wear a swim suit, and go to the beach to cool off.
And it carries over into other areas of life. No, people don't wear swim suits to Wal-Mart, but dressing the way you like is far less likely to get you labeled as anything in a place where everyone has to realize that a "perfect beach body" simply doesn't exist.
If you're anything like me, and/or you grew up anywhere not near a beach, your mind probably conjures up some image of the "perfect" body: young, skinny, in shape, tan, smooth, hair-free skin, etc.
The difference between this picture, and what I saw in the mirror (soft-and-squishy, blindingly-white, really-doesn't-like-shaving 20-something) always caused me some consternation at the idea of going to the beach. When people would speak longingly of a week at the beach, my mind instantly responded with "Yeah, right - maybe if I lost 30lbs, sun-bathed for a year, trained for a marathon, and was into Brazilian waxing!"
This mindset carried over into many other areas of my life - I didn't like going swimming, or jogging, or really doing anything that might call attention to the fact that my body was anything but "perfect." Even after a long struggle with bulimia, and several years of learning to take care of my body and not be ashamed of it, the thought of going to the beach scared me. Now, no one ever said you have to wear swim suits to the beach, but even the thought of being around other people so amazingly attractive that they enjoyed showing off their bodies, intimidated me beyond words.
These ideas, the picture I had in my head of a perfect body, how far I was from it, and how much I thought I should have it, seemed to be common threads I saw in the people around me. Living in a small college town meant there was little variation - you had your sorority girls, and you had your redneck chicks, and your white trash b******, and then the rest of us. It was ok to be "overweight" - if you liked being stuck in the same town for the rest of your life. It was ok to not be tan - if you were sick, or goth, or just really weird. And it was ok to not shave - if you liked shopping for comfort food in your pajamas at Wal-Mart in the middle of the night. (Incidentally, I really like doing that, but that's a bit beside the point.)
In short, you were either attractive - you had the "perfect beach body" - or you were nothing. Less than nothing, you were white trash. (Because apparently white people are the only people who get to be anything in Cookeville, but that's another story for another day.)
Before coming down to Charleston for the summer, I'd spent a few weekends here, and we'd gone to the beach a few times. But I mostly felt really out-of-place, because I KNEW I didn't have a beach body. And of course, everyone else could see it too.
It wasn't until I'd been here for a few weeks, watched the people around me, and gone to the beach a few more times, that it dawned on me: EVERYONE IN CHARLESTON HAS A BEACH BODY!
How was I to feel about this?!
Where were the distinctions between "people who looked good at the beach" and "people who need to wear one-pieces"?
At first I was a bit baffled, and to be honest, a bit lost. But it only took a short time for me to realize and revel in the freedom this brought. Not only was it acceptable to go to the beach without being "perfect," it was normal - everyone was doing it.
There's an honesty here that I appreciate.
I love that people would rather be comfortable than listen to marketers scream at them that they are "too fat," "too old," "too white," to wear a swim suit, and go to the beach to cool off.
And it carries over into other areas of life. No, people don't wear swim suits to Wal-Mart, but dressing the way you like is far less likely to get you labeled as anything in a place where everyone has to realize that a "perfect beach body" simply doesn't exist.
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