I detest swimsuit shopping. Even when I had lost 30 pounds, I still did not enjoy it. And, today, when those 30 pounds are back with a vengeance, it is even more loathsome.
Walking in to my local big box store I expected to find an array of suits to choose from because I had this kooky idea that the first day of summer was just last Monday. Wrong. Dead wrong.
I arrived to find what looked like the leftovers that every other woman in the county didn’t want. Do you know why they didn’t want them? Two reasons: too little or too small.
The bikini tops, which were in abundance, came in several sizes: skinny, extra skinny, and anorexic. I didn’t even bother to look at the bottoms. Evidently bikinis are “in” but since I don’t want all my flesh pouring “out,” those options are not for me.
Tankinis. Now we’re talking. A much safer choice, but they have to cover. This retailer had one design in two different colors, both of which were created for a much younger woman.
One pieces. The old stand-by. There were about five of them hanging on a rack. I raised a hanger to get a better look and noticed that this one was actually too large for me. (Shocker, I know). Not to be deterred, I tried another and another. They were all too large. Is this some kind of cruel revenge the swimming-suit gods have going on?
While we’re on the topic, exactly WHY do retailers think that I want to shop for a swimsuit in front of God and everyone else? The few pieces of swimwear they had left were front and center of the store next to the main aisle. I love people watching me have an anxiety attack.
If someone was watching from above, I might have looked like a Pac-Man running back and forth through the maze of racks.
I persevered and settled on a shirt and a sports bra. Yes, I realize it’s not a swimming suit, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
When I got home I thought, “What would happen if I wore these pieces and never thought one more thing about it?”
What if . . .
instead of obsessing about what I looked like or
what others were thinking I looked like, or
what I wished I looked like. . .
what if . . . just per chance,
I put it out of my mind and concentrated on having a good time?
It’s a radical thought for me. I’m not sure I can do it, but I’m willing to try.
A wise woman recently told me, “Until you learn to love the parts about yourself that you hate, you’ll never love other people’s parts you hate.”
Very simply, I must learn to love myself. It’s possibly my greatest challenge, especially when I’m trying to do it in a swimsuit.