Today was the dreaded day. Today was BATHING SUIT SHOPPING DAY! The last time I purchased a swim suit I was considerably heavier and trying to "tone it down a bit" as I was going on a cruise with my boyfriend and his parents. ( I also think it was during the last decade, no joke.) At that time, I opted for two lovely one piece swimsuits. I have worn them to shreds and sadly the elastic is shot is some pretty important places.
This year I decided a two piece was in order. My thoughts on that were largely guided by the fact I have gotten rather accustomed to standing around in a jog bra and (practically) panties for the last 10 months and well...what the hell! If I can handle looking at myself in limited gear in a room full of mirrors and florescent lighting I can CERTAINLY handle it in the beauty of the sunlight, no mirrors AND a rocking cover up, right?
Be that as it may, I put the search off until the LAST DAY POSSIBLE before my big beach weekend. In fact, I parked my car in the parking lot and I sat in it for 10 minutes before I mustered up the courage to walk inside! One laboring footstep in front of the other pointed me in the dreaded direction and I basically dove right in. (No pun intended.)
Well, first let me tell you, I broke off the entire arm of one of displays. Oops! It fell to the ground. I walked away. I liked the print but I wasn't about to claim my clumsy error and sift through the navy blue butterfly printed mess on the floor.
After I talked to myself, as I ALWAYS do when something grossly embarrassing happens to me, I re-engaged in the search.
I entered the fitting room with no less than 10 possible choices.
Choice One: So precious...but what is going on...oh, wait, it has a little skirting. Why won't the skirt sit right? Oh, it's from the "junior section!" No! No! No!
Choices Two through Nine were all too big! Yessssssssssssss! Over estimation, Patty. Well played...and you didn't even know you were creating a strategy, did you?
Choice Ten: Perfect. AND...it is a size too large. Again, well played, Patricia...well played.
Once I got myself into the right size, I slid on my platform heels, checked myself out in the mirror and said, "Not bad, lady! We've got our winner." (Too bad heels sink in the sand.)
Added bonus...the top can easily double as a pole dancing costume! (Obviously shopping for a bathing suit has now taken on a dual purpose.)
Here's the beautiful part of this story: At one time "body dysmorphic disorder" was tossed around by a professional in reference to me. (Gasp....I know....hard to believe, right?) But there is some real truth in what I said earlier. The more I have become accustomed to seeing myself in what could essentially be considered a "swimsuit"...the more I have come to appreciate WHAT I look like. And, trust me, I am by no means society's definition of a perfect body....but sure as hell am God's definition of a perfect body. And it works, it moves, it's healthy, it's strong...strong from the inside out...stronger than ever before. So yeah, looking in that mirror today (NOT IN TOTAL DISGUST) was an enormous victory for me.
Takeaway: Enroll in a pole fitness class and you might find bathing suit shopping is just as natural as breathing!
Final thought: The lady next to me was roughly 70 years old, dressed to the nines, very proper, about 4' 10" and she purchased the tiniest, sexiest, leopard print two piece in the shop. I was even intimidated by her swimsuit. Damn straight, sister, life goes on way passed your thirties, doesn't it?
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