I saw you hide behind your friends and take off your shirt when no one is watching. I saw. I didn’t look, but I saw you.
I saw you lower your head to brush your hair out of your face without taking your hands off your belly.
I saw you swallow nervously before getting up and walking into the water, showing your body to your friends. You covered yourself with your arms again, hiding your stretch marks, loose skin and cellulite.
I saw how worried you were when you couldn’t hide your body, how you slowly moved away from your friends again.
I don’t know if your insecurities were due to your friend standing next to you with her long hair blowing in the wind – just the wings missing from the Victoria’s Secret models. And at that time you were looking at the floor, delving into yourself, trying to find a place where you can hide from everyone. Push.
I would like to tell you a lot, dear girl in a green bathing suit, e a woman with children, I was there – on your towel.
I mean, I was on your towel and your friend’s towel. I was you and I was her. And now I’m neither, and e as you. If I could go back, I wouldn’t worry or brag. Continue reading