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Mom Bodies

I brought my mom body to Great Wolf Lodge. Ooched a swimsuit over the parts of me that didn’t quite tuck in neatly anymore. And watched as my kids abandoned their clothing like they were fleeing a fire.

“You coming, mom?” Silas squealed. He was barefoot and halfway in the hallway, the rest of his clothing still falling out of the air. Raven was getting one last sideways look at herself in the mirror over the sink.

I sucked in a lungful. “Yes,” I declared. “I’m coming.”

I adjusted the padding in my swimsuit in the event I got it wet. Then I slid a pair of pants over my suit in the event I never got wet. “You never could tell,” I told myself.

The 84 degree temps in the GWL waterpark enveloped us like a hug. I could almost part with my pants on my first breath. The kids skittered into the wave pool and I plunked into a chair to watch them.

But I mostly I just watched the moms.

Moms with teeny kids; moms with six kids, hovering moms, nursing moms, loud moms, cautious moms, knitting moms, book-worm moms. All here-in-a-swimsuit moms.

GWL isn’t a catwalk, I reminded myself. Or a California beach.

It’s a place for every mom.

A place where timid, skinny moms can pace the sidelines. Where bigger moms in tented dress skirts carry babies in life jackets bubbled up past their necks.

It’s a place for moms in black suits, suits with prints, t-shirts and jean-short suits. For moms in swim skirts–skirts to the knees, skirts to the thighs, skirts clinging to the back of the leg.  For moms in strapless bikini tops, halter tops, long-sleeve tops that hide it all.

For moms with big boobs, sag-to-your-belly-button boobs, boobs like deflated balloons. For moms with cleavage and moms with none. For boobs tucked in, boobs pushed up, and boobs playing peek-a-boo. It’s a place for flat chests, tattooed chests, grandmotherly chests, bouncy chests.

For big bottoms, wide bottoms, bottoms with dimples, svelte bottoms. Bottoms like buses. Bottoms covered in dresses like they’re headed to church. Bottoms skirted, bikinied, scrunched into shorts.

For moms with rounded stomachs, moms with flat stomachs, moms with droopy, post-partum stomachs. Moms with hands crossed over their stomachs, moms with children sitting on their stomachs. Stomachs sucked in. Stomachs left out.

Moms in their mom bodies.

Could there be a more beautiful thing?

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