“Dear Girl In The Green Swimsuit”, The Letter That Is Moving The Internet

“Dear Girl in the Green Swimsuit”  is the viral letter that says it doesn’t matter what we are. It doesn’t matter if we are characterized by being smart, creative, intelligent, cultured, caring, persevering or hardworking people. It’s more important to be beautiful, active and modern.

That’s why we hide. That’s why we hide our marks of life, our stretch marks, our extra pounds and our light weight. That’s why we discreetly wear our shirt and try to see ourselves more “beautiful” and  photoshop our reality.

This was perfectly reflected by Jessica Gómez in her letter “Dear Girl in the Green Swimsuit”, text that we brought to this space to invite her to reflect and be your healthy inner voice and that of your children.

The viral letter: “Dear girl in the green swimsuit”

Dear girl in the green swimsuit:

I’m the woman in the towel next door. The one that came with a boy and a girl.

First of all, I want to tell you that I’m having so much fun with you and your group of friends, in this little piece of time where our spaces touch and your laughs, your ‘transcendental’ conversation and the music of your class invade the air.

You know what? I was kind of stunned to realize that I don’t know at what point in my life I stopped being there to be here : I stopped being the girl to be “the lady next door”, I stopped being the one who goes with friends to be the one who go with the kids.

But I’m not writing you for any of this. I write because I would like to say that I paid attention to you. I saw you and couldn’t help it.

I saw that you were the last one to stay in your bathing suit. I saw you stand behind the whole group, unobtrusively, and take off your shirt when you thought no one was looking. But I was. I wasn’t looking at you, but I saw you.

I saw you sit on the towel in a careful posture, covering your stomach with your arms.

I saw you tuck your hair behind your ear, bending your head to reach her, perhaps to keep your arms from your very studied casual position.

I saw you get up to go for a swim and swallow hard, nervous at having to be like this, standing, exposed, waiting for your friend, and once again use your arms as protection to cover stretch marks, sagging, cellulite .

I saw you in agony at not being able to cover everything at once as you walked away from the group as discreetly as you had earlier to remove your shirt.

I don’t know if it had anything to do with her dissatisfaction with herself that the friend you were hoping for had dropped her long hair over a back that only lacked the wings of Victoria’s Secret. And meanwhile you are there, looking at the ground. Looking for a hiding place in itself, of itself.

And I wish I could tell you so many things, dear girl in the green bathing suit… Maybe because before I was the woman who comes with the children, I was already there, in your towel.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve actually been in your towel and your friend’s. I was you and I was her. And now I’m neither – or maybe I’m still both – so if I could go back, I’d choose to simply enjoy life instead of worrying – or bragging – about things like which of the two towels, yours or the her, I prefer to be.

I wish I could tell you that you carry a book in your purse, and that any abdomen that is now sixteen years old is likely to lose its grip long before you lose your mind.

I wish I could tell you that you have a beautiful smile and that it ‘s a shame you’re so busy hiding that you don’t have time to smile more often.

I would love to tell you that I would like you to see yourself through the eyes of a woman in her thirties, because maybe that way you would realize how much you deserve to be loved, including by yourself.

I wish I could tell you that  the person who someday truly loves you will not love the person you are despite your body, but will love your body:  every curve, every little hole, every line, every dot. He will love the unique and precious map he draws on his body, and if he doesn’t, if he doesn’t love that way, then he doesn’t deserve your love.

I wish I could tell you – and believe me, but believe me – that you are perfect just the way you are: sublime in your imperfection.

But what can I tell you, I’m just the woman next door?

You know what? I came here with my daughter. It’s the one with the pink bathing suit, the one who’s playing in the river and getting dirty with sand. Her only concern today was that the water was too cold.

I can’t tell you anything, dear girl in the green swimsuit…

But I will tell her everything, EVERYTHING.

And I will say everything, EVERYTHING, to my son too.

Because that’s how we all deserve to be loved.

And that’s how we should all love.

There is a life beyond the mirror and anti-cellulite creams

Our well-being is compromised when we avoid looking at ourselves, exploring and recognizing our own body, our female figure. We are not what an anti-cellulite cream makes us, it is us loving and knowing every corner of our body, understanding the reason why there is cellulite there or why our ovaries are at war.

We are not safe with ourselves if every time we look in the mirror we berate ourselves for thick thighs, hair that sticks out, our lack of curves, cellulite or our wrinkles. We have to create a safe internal space for our body instead of punishing and humiliating it.