I have a big booty rear a lot of junk in the trunk big ass. This has made it difficult to buy not only bathing suits, but all manner of apparel from jeans to undies for as long as I can remember. I’m divulging this nugget of info to tell you that my search for a suit is going to be fraught with all sorts of minefields emotional, physical and spiritual. I know this because, believe it or not, I’ve actually bought a few bathing suits in my time.
The first time I can remember solo suit shopping I was about sixteen, you know, rocking and rolling and making my own dough and itching to spend it on accentuating my junk. I spent one entire day perusing and trying on and pinching, tying and stuffing various body parts before settling on swimwear that Christine, a BFF who also spent half the summer lifeguarding, appropriated for work while I lounged poolside in some hot cutoffs and worn out t-shirt. Swim suit shopping from there on out was never, ever fun. If the bottoms fit, the tops didn’t and vice versa. I practically wept for joy when the trend of buying pieces separately started.
Even so, Bathing suits just don’t fit me well, ever. Neither do bras, jeans or hosiery of any kind, but I digress.
I’m pretty sure most women lament this very thing and volumes have been written on the subject and the series The Sisterhood of the traveling pants is about what it feels like as a woman when we find something, friendships… pants…anything that fit us so perfectly that it transforms your soul. I have yet to become one with an actual bikini. I have had great suits. I continue to doubt my ability to bond with any two piece set of clothing and I’ll tell you why.
All women have that THING.
The one thing that they love on the rack, in the catalog or on other people, but for whatever reason, they absolutely cannot wear without feeling as if they bought said item a size too large/small or in the wrong color. It just doesn’t WORK, for whatever reason, they don’t wear it.
For my friend Amy, it’s wraps skirts. She moons over this seasons Ann Taylor, but she refuses to buy another one because, as she says, her hips look weird. Now, I have not seen Amy in a wrap skirt, but I’d be willing to bet an Ann Taylor wrap skirt that she looks fine, it’s something about the way she feels in it that’s all wrong.
and, as my other friend Meegs says, if it doesn’t feel good, you won’t wear it, so don’t waste your money.
I do believe Meagan, after all, she’s super smart and she has yet to lay any heinous lies on me, but the thing is, I have about six or five hundred and twelve things that I won’t buy or wear because I have some sort of excuse. I don’t wear anything but v-necks or boat necks because my neck line is strange (oh yeah, I said it) I hate capris (and shorts, and most skirts) because I have funky knees. I don’t wear crocs (even though every other woman in the south owns like sixty seven pair) because my feet look ‘boaty’.
I’m sure you get what I’m saying. I make excuses when the only excuse is I’m uncomfortable with my skin. And that is plain silly.
I have lots of voices telling me that I look fine, great and sometimes even downright hot, but the louder voice, and the one I can’t silence is my inner critic. The one who laments the size of my thighs and the freckles and fine laugh lines around my mouth. She is so loud and all I want to do is smack her sometimes.
So, while I search for a suit and some semblance of sanity, think about your thing, and I’m sure all things considered, You look great.