Last summer, early in the morning, by the water, my husband and I stood on the shore, at the edge of the sand, in our swimsuits.
He hugged me around the waist, and a genuine smile lit up my face. We rarely allowed ourselves such freedom, and this day seemed like a little escape from the routine, worries and anxieties of the past.
I have never been ashamed of my body. Yes, I am sixty; the laugh lines on my face, my soft belly, the traces of years lived on my thighs and knees — all this is the story of my life.
My husband has always said that I am beautiful, and sometimes, when our eyes meet, it seems as if we met only yesterday.
But on that day — after I posted the photo — my confidence wavered for the first time in a long time.
At first, it all seemed innocent. ‘Look at us, happy and together,’ is what I wanted to say.
The photo started getting likes and warm comments: ‘What a beautiful couple,’ ‘How wonderful that you’re still together’…
And then a comment appeared that knocked me off my feet.
It was from my daughter.
‘Mum, clothes like that are inappropriate at your age. And you really shouldn’t show off your “fat belly”. Just delete the photo.’
An icy wave ran through my body. It became difficult to breathe.
I carried her under my heart, cared for her when she was sick, took her to school, helped her graduate from university…
And now my own daughter had written such cruel words to me.
I decided to teach her a lesson — but I also realised that I had to learn to love myself again.
I stared at the screen for a long time, then typed:
“Darling, it’s our genes. In twenty years, you’ll look just like me.
And I sincerely hope that by then you’ll be wise enough not to be ashamed of your body.”
I sent the message and deleted her comment. But that wasn’t enough.
She chose to humiliate me publicly, and I felt I had the right to set boundaries.
A few weeks later, when she asked me for money, I replied coldly:
‘Sorry, I spent it all on food — that’s why I have a “fat belly”.’
She was offended. But I didn’t care. At that moment, I was defending myself.
Since then, I sometimes look at my reflection more critically. Sometimes I automatically cover my stomach with a towel when I put on a swimsuit.
Jubga — popular beaches and secluded spots
And that angers me — because I know that the real problem isn’t my body.
It’s that women too often allow others to dictate how they should live and look.
Yes, I taught my daughter a lesson.
But I also realised that I had another lesson to learn — to learn to be proud of myself again, without shame.
