I spent spring tugging at the necks of my tank tops hoping to hide my stretch marks and praying that someone would invent a bathing suit with a turtleneck. The summer, most of which I spent overdressed and self-conscious, was equally uncomfortable. In autumn and winter, I was happy that I could hide behind bulkier clothes, but had a hard time finding shirts that hid my shape adequately. I started shopping in the men's section and embraced flannel shirts in a way no woman should ever embrace an article of lumberjack's clothing.
But, something more significant than bad fashion choices began to happen that winter. My stretch marks were becoming lighter! I could still see them there, but they had faded. By the time summer came around again, the marks were pale enough for me to feel a little better in a bathing suit. Around the pool, I noticed that some of the girls had red marks peaking out of the tops of their swimsuits. I was happy to see that I was definitely not the only one with a little streaking going on.
Even though I know that my stretch marks will never completely go away, they have faded so much that when my breasts are supported (by a bra), no one but me can even tell they're there. Unsupported, I can sometimes make out little divets where the bruising used to be, but I can live with that. You might even say that my stretch marks have grown on me (pun intended).
