I found them gathered on the back deck. PJ pants, hoodies, and hot cups of coffee in hand, my four daughters were circled up and telling stories to one another. The seventeen years that separates them is starting to feel less difficult to close, especially today as the topic at hand is their bodies.
The older two have plenty of memories of my tightness, born of my own shame and how I had been taught to manage it.
"Good girls should…"
"Good girls don't…"
"Good girls remember…"
"Good girls know…"
I hear it as the conversation turns to bathing suits. "Two pieces were not allowed, and bikinis were an absolute no. I wouldn't even have thought to ask Mom to buy one for me."
The younger two haven't known that same tightness. Their drawers are filled with two-piece bathing suits, including bikinis.
I listen and remember the tightness inside of me.
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