Instrumental, not ornamental

Myself, when summer meant Capri Sun and sprinklers.

Our bodies, that is. In case you haven't read the bombardment of magazine covers at the grocery store, it's nearly summer, and your body just isn't good enough for that.

It doesn't matter who you are. Something about you is inadequate. You need to lose twenty pounds, trim down your thighs or tighten your belly.

You need to be tan. But not real tan! Spray tan, tanning lotions, tan-in-a-towelette. You cannot wear shorts until your skin is the perfect shade of bottled tannish/orange. 

Ideally, aim to be hairless, poreless, freckle-less and just generally manufactured. 

Childhood summers were good on the body. Wind in your hair, grass under your feet, rain on your tongue, sun on your shoulders, dirt on your knees and an ice cream cone that melted all over your hands every time. 

The body was there to enjoy the summer. To take in the mosquito bites with the golden tan, but to have too much fun to notice either.

I have learned to be self-conscious and unappreciative of the incredible design that is the human body. 

Have you ever tried looking at every person that passes you, and seeing them as a soul within a vehicle rather than just a body? Try it. It makes you acutely aware of how hard everyone is trying. Makeup and hairstyles and uncomfortable shoes and long, long hours at the gym.

It's important, of course, to pay attention to the body. To keep it feeling healthy and vibrant. Rest when needed, sweat when needed. Don't constantly eat crap.

But at its core, the body is instrumental, not ornamental. It's not there to be looked at and judged. It's there for the wind and the dirt and the summer ice cream and that cool, invigorating rush of an ocean wave. 

And this summer, I am not putting my body through rounds of spray tanning and obsessive work outs to be "Summer Ready!!!" My pasty self will enjoy long walks and festivals with a sun hat and SPF, and it will be glorious. Freckles, insecurities and all. I want to enjoy it as best I can, grateful for a body that lets me do just that. I hope you will do the same.