Lake day for the bell of the ball ā¦ beach ball out for all to see ā¤ļøāš„ The sun was out, the water was shimmering, and so was I, in all my big-bellied, curvy glory.
I strutted (okay, waddled, but with confidence) down to the lake like it was my personal runway. My thighs clapped a little applause of their own and my belly led the way, proudly poking out of my too-small bikini like it was saying āYeah, you see me.ā
The cool water welcomed me like an old friend. I eased myself in with all the grace of a majestic manatee : slow, deliberate, fabulous. Once I got floating, though? Oh honey, I was divine. My belly became a perfect little raft of its own, bobbing gently, catching the sunlight, shimmering like the eighth wonder of the world.
I drifted past a group of people on paddle boards and flashed them a big grin. Their boards wobbled because they couldnāt decide where to look first w the curves, the confidence, or the belly glistening like it was auditioning for its own calendar shoot.
After a few victorious laps of float-waddling and showing off my mermaid side (okay, more like sea goddess, letās be real), I made my way back to shore and flopped down on my towel like a queen returning to her throne.
There I lay, letting the sun kiss every soft, beautiful inch of me, belly rising like a glorious hill under the sky. I closed my eyes and smiled to myself. The lake was calm, the sun was warm, and my curves? Absolutely stealing the show.
Because at the end of the day you donāt just go to the lake. You own the lake. And today? It was all mine.
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