This is simultaneously my best and worst season. The days are longer, the air is warmer, and the skies are bluer. There are beaches and pools, which I love, but there are also…yep!…swimsuits, which I hate.
Every spring, I put on last year’s swimsuit, determine to drop a few pounds before I go anywhere in public wearing it, then scold myself for caring. This year is no different and I intentionally check my heart. How much should a Jesus-loving wife and mother care about her swimsuit-clad body, and what do I want my daughters to learn as spring rolls into summer?
The reality is, we live in a hyper-sexualized culture that equates sexiness with value. It screams at us that a hot body will lead to a happily-ever-after life and that if only we can rock a bikini (at any age) and draw the eyes of men, then we will…
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