Last week I basically threw down the gauntlet publicly to actually don that bikini I bought as part of my personal confidence journey. And while admittedly I did have a moment of pause when I looked at myself in the mirror (I swear to god it elongated me horizontally) I finally said “Hell with it, here we go!” and headed down to the pool.

When I later looked at these photos that Jon snapped, I smiled for several reasons. First, how awesomely generous of my dear girlfriend Heidi to welcome us to this vacation estate (seriously, it’s an estate) again. Second, this was the one sunny day of the weekend and Laurel had so much fun in the pool/hot tub (seriously, she was in the water for about 5 hours straight). Third, I think I rocked this bikini, even without the big boobs (yay for us A cups!). And fourth, being confident and content with who I am and what I look like can only do well by Laurel.

Nope, my boobs don't fill out this top like the model, but WHATEVER. I still rocked it.

This picture cracks me up. Laurel just adored that little hot tub.

OK, I think this picture may be extra flattering because I'm lying down...oh, how I loved floating around on that thing.

As you may know, since March I’ve been a devoted member of the Shredheads, and following the tagline (I designed that hot logo btw… do you like it?), I’ve been avenging my waistline and kicking ass.

Truly, I have. I haven’t documented the best photo evidence and I’m lacking the quantitative measurement of a scale (more on that in a second) but hot damn, my clothes fit again. Yesterday I even DM’d Kristen (fearless Shredhead leader) because holy crap, I actually finally fit into that last elusive pair of pants (a very small size 6). In her words, Woo!!

But there’s been another part of this story, which is that of general self-esteem and confidence. I’ve wrestled with it ever since a real ass of an ex-boyfriend drove me to the brink of an eating disorder during the summer of my freshman year. I was extremely lucky to get back to college and away from his toxicity just in time — I shook the cobwebs out of my head, took a look in the mirror, and thought, “Whoa, get thee to the dining hall. Stat.”

Hence, since those days, I haven’t owned a scale. That’s why I have no metrics on my Shredhead results.

Now, I should say that in Jon I have the most amazingly supportive and unconditionally loving guy on the planet. He doesn’t notice all the little imperfections I obsess about, or more appropriately, he just truly loves me the way I am. It didn’t matter that I lost my cute, perky boobs and developed ample love handles after I finished nursing. He just didn’t see it the same way. And to that effect, once I started shredding he never commented on the results (evaporation of said love handles, what I’m hoping is a kind of toned ass); instead commending me on the fact that I was taking care of myself.

Part of my confidence journey has been that I committed to buying a bikini this summer, though I’ll admit that when I tried one on, I looked in the mirror and recoiled, thinking, “Damn, I thought this would look a little better.” But I purchased it anyway, and, keeping in mind this advice from a college friend — “The number one thing about bikinis is CONFIDENCE! Cannot be purchased in stores!” — I finally came to grips with the fact that no, I am not willing to starve myself like celebrities, nor do I have personal trainers or people willing to airbrush me in photos (though I do have Photoshop skills, I suppose I could do it myself…although wait, I don’t exactly have paparazzi lurking in the bushes waiting to snap pictures of me…). I’m shredding or doing yoga 4-5 times per week (miracle!) and I’m eating well, watching my carbs and sugars and eating plenty of fruits and veggies because in general I want to be a healthy person and decrease my risk of cavities. If I wanted to look like the model in the photo below I’d need to: a) get a boob job; and b) starve myself — neither of which are options. I finally realized that this is as good as it gets.

When I debut my bikini this weekend (assuming the god forsaken sun finally shows itself), I’m ready to accept my person as it is, still somewhat jiggly thighs and all. And of course, when I finally told Jon, “OK honey, I think I’m going to stop being so hard on myself… I think this is as good as it gets,” he said, “Finally! It’s about time you started loving yourself the way I love you.”

I’m a lucky, lucky girl.

My cute Tommy Bahama bikini, and no my boobs don't fill it out like that and my stomach isn't that flat. But I'm finally OK with that.

It was heartbreaking and somewhat surreal to read this morning about Laura Ling (Lisa Ling’s sister) and Euna Lee being sentenced to 12 years in labor camps in North Korean.

As a first generation Korean, I have, over the years, felt a considerable amount of confusion about identity. But this sort of news makes me understand better why my parents used to encourage me to clarify to those who asked that my family was from the South side.

I’m sending prayers to the Ling and Lee families this morning…