A letter to Sugar Bear

Dearest Sugar Bear,

Your Papa Bear is tucking you away in bed, and I decided to write you a note. Mama Bear learned a lesson today. Actually, it's not like I learned it today, it's been 37 years in the making. And really, I'm learning it every day. But I'm writing it down for you today. Because it is my sincere hope that in writing this down, I'll begin to unravel the binds that keep me from remembering the lesson. More importantly, by making this public, I'll have a record for myself to live this lesson. To truly live it, so that maybe it won't take you 37 years to get there too. I hope not to get to preachy. But you know me by now Sugar Bear. And, occasionally, I can get a little preachy. Just listen to the heart of the message, because that's all that really matters.

Humor me.

Today I went shopping. Just a quick run through Target. I thought I might get a few new clothing items to add to my wardrobe as the season changes. Everywhere I look, there are bears running around in fall outfits, and I am totally digging the styles. My favorite is the leggings with knee high boots and an oversized sweater, shirt, or coat. I totally love it! I perused the aisles with this style in mind, grabbing leggings and shirts that matched the idea I had in my head. Pleased with my choices, I headed to the dressing room with confidence that I would have a cute outfit in no time. As I started to try on clothes, and found outfit after outfit in the "reject pile" that is when I remembered:

I have a big bottom.

Yep. It's true. There's no denying it. And, if genetics have anything to do with it, you will too Sugar Bear. I'm happy to take the blame, but I'm thinking the blame goes a bit further up the chain that just me. But not only do I have a big bottom, I have a small top in comparison. Big bottom, and small top make for very challenging, very frustrating shopping.

That's not the lesson I learned. I already knew that. And chances are, if you are reading this Sugar Bear, you know it too. The lesson is, as Paul Harvey says, "the rest of the story".

So, yes, indeed I have a large derriere. And I often make fun of it (here, for example). But more often than not, I'm frustrated by it. I'm frustrated that I don't look like all the other bears out there, especially the ones glaring at me from the glossy pages of magazines and movies. I'm frustrated that buying a dress usually means adding alterations to the tab. I'm frustrated that if I can get "skinny jeans" over my backside there's room for a small furry animal at the waistline, I'm frustrated that feeling "comfortable" heading out for the evening means I have to wear a very uncomfortable contraption called spanx. I'm frustrated that I've never tried a triathlon because I'm afraid to wear a bathing suit and have my hind end jiggling in public.

After a while, I kind of get beat down by this.

But today it stops. Today, I realized that there's more at stake to this issue than me. I have to think about you now too. Because your little eyes are watching me - and paying attention. Every time I come home from the store sad or look in the mirror and complain - you are learning. You are learning that a Mama Bear shouldn't love her body.

And that's just wrong. In so many awful, horrible, ways - it's wrong. Because what I see in glossy magazines and movies isn't the truth. It isn't the average, everyday bear. It is a lie. And every time I look in the mirror and see that I don't measure up, I'm continuing that lie. And I don't want to pass that on to you.

So, here are some truths I know, truths I'm going to hang on to. Truths I'm going to tell myself when the outfits don't look like I hope... I'm in some of the best shape of my life. I'm training for my 13th marathon and that meaty backside has followed me every step. Those hips kept you safe in my womb for 9 months and continue to carry you where you need to go most days. Sure, they're dimpled, but they are dimpled with life. Some of that life was blissful ignorance (my teens, when I could eat anything I wanted), some of it stupidity (my twenties when I fixed everything with food) and some of it joy (carrying and feeding you and Brother Bear). I'll wear those dimples with pride, as a badge of honor. A life lived abundantly. I will not be ashamed.

So, today, I'm going to start loving my body anew. I'm going to be a changed Mama Bear. And in the process, I'm hoping I'll help you learn to love the body God gave you - just the way you are.

Because you, my sweetest Sugar Bear, are beautiful - every single inch of you.

Believe me. Believe me.

Love,

Mama Bear

P.S. - In college, like me, you'll probably fall in love with a rap song (or another such song) that talks about how there are some bears who love bears with large backsides. You'll find it funny but also endearing. You'll say to yourself, you want a bear like that someday. Don't look for that bear. Because, he only cares about the exterior. Find a bear who loves the interior and recognizes that the exterior, while lovely, is simply the vessel that carries the important stuff. He's the one that will last. But...that's another lesson for another day....