I got my bikini. It fits.
It's a light blue print called "Zurich," for reasons I can't fathom. The bikini, truth be told, fits better than the X-back one-piece of the same material, which I acquired at the same time -- and which I have water-tested in the aquatic center. It didn't disintegrate in the pool, or split at the seams. I have that not-so-rational fear, every time I try out a new suit.
But, oh, my bikini body is nothing like what you might see at beauty pageants or in Sports Illustrated. It's lumpy. When the fat melted away, the flesh stayed, and the loose skin hangs off my bat-wing arms and the newly-visible muscles on my thighs. And the belly. Oh, dearie-dear, the belly. Maybe I should have asked the surgeon who replaced my knee to do a tummy-tuck while he was at it.
And, the wrinkles on my face and neck remind me (A) I'm no longer in my 20s and (B) neither is Christie Brinkley, but nobody would ever mistake me for her.
Yet, when I try on my bikini and look in the mirror, I see a woman who has come a long, long way on the road to a healthier, stronger body.
I like what I see.
So, why am I nervous about wearing the "Zurich" two-piece swimsuit in public?
The debut will happen, I hope, later this summer at an Arizona resort -- the same one where, a year and a half ago, I spent most of my vacation in the suite because I could barely walk. The resort has a water park. Chances are, nobody there will know me.
Yet I also know the reality -- that catty women and piggish men, not to mention kids of all ages, believe that women's bodies are public property, and that they have the right to whisper, comment out loud or hoot about a stranger's deviations from the breed standards (as unrealistic as those standards are). Even if they don't say anything, I can read on people's faces when they think a woman who looks like me should camouflage my body rather than flaunt it.
But the bikini (really a fairly modest two-piece suit) is comfortable on me, I can move in it and it feels water-worthy.
So yeah, I'll wear it in public, in Arizona if not earlier this summer -- say, on a Lake Michigan beach, where I expect I'd see a lot of lumpy Wisconsin women.
And if people think I should cover up....well...
Do I give a shit? Ask me if I give a shit.
Why, no. Why do you ask?
It's a light blue print called "Zurich," for reasons I can't fathom. The bikini, truth be told, fits better than the X-back one-piece of the same material, which I acquired at the same time -- and which I have water-tested in the aquatic center. It didn't disintegrate in the pool, or split at the seams. I have that not-so-rational fear, every time I try out a new suit.
But, oh, my bikini body is nothing like what you might see at beauty pageants or in Sports Illustrated. It's lumpy. When the fat melted away, the flesh stayed, and the loose skin hangs off my bat-wing arms and the newly-visible muscles on my thighs. And the belly. Oh, dearie-dear, the belly. Maybe I should have asked the surgeon who replaced my knee to do a tummy-tuck while he was at it.
And, the wrinkles on my face and neck remind me (A) I'm no longer in my 20s and (B) neither is Christie Brinkley, but nobody would ever mistake me for her.
Yet, when I try on my bikini and look in the mirror, I see a woman who has come a long, long way on the road to a healthier, stronger body.
I like what I see.
So, why am I nervous about wearing the "Zurich" two-piece swimsuit in public?
The debut will happen, I hope, later this summer at an Arizona resort -- the same one where, a year and a half ago, I spent most of my vacation in the suite because I could barely walk. The resort has a water park. Chances are, nobody there will know me.
Yet I also know the reality -- that catty women and piggish men, not to mention kids of all ages, believe that women's bodies are public property, and that they have the right to whisper, comment out loud or hoot about a stranger's deviations from the breed standards (as unrealistic as those standards are). Even if they don't say anything, I can read on people's faces when they think a woman who looks like me should camouflage my body rather than flaunt it.
But the bikini (really a fairly modest two-piece suit) is comfortable on me, I can move in it and it feels water-worthy.
So yeah, I'll wear it in public, in Arizona if not earlier this summer -- say, on a Lake Michigan beach, where I expect I'd see a lot of lumpy Wisconsin women.
And if people think I should cover up....well...
Do I give a shit? Ask me if I give a shit.
Why, no. Why do you ask?
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