Excuse me, could you point me to the nearest leper colony?

Several days ago, I left my home and purposely forged into enemy territory.  On the outside, I appeared confident and unshakable.  Inside, my heart was accelerating, nausea was twisting my stomach in knots, and there were nearly tears.  I entered the doors to the building, walked up to a woman with a name tag, and asked, "Where is the dreaded swimsuit department?"  She looked at me, smiled, and pointed down an aisle.  "What we have is right over there."  The way she worded the sentence made me think that maybe there were not many suits to choose from.  Perhaps swimsuits had gone out of fashion and were being replaced by loose fitting, yet some how flattering, smocks?  The swimwear of the early 1900's was making a comeback!  A time in history when it was not unusual for women's swimsuits to have sleeves.  God was smiling on me......

My friends and I at the beach.

 

 

As I happily approached the area the sales associated had pointed towards, I was reminded that God has a sense of humor.  The racks were full of brightly colored Lycra, floral and striped, one-piece, two-piece, and teeny weeny bikinis.  Something for everyone!!!!  I kept looking for the retro swim romper or the newest aqua frock from Paris, but I was disappointed to find exactly what I find every year.  Lots and lots of choices that fall into one of three categories:  "Doesn't fit," "Ugly," and "That'll Do."  I have never had a bikini figure.  I have never won a, "Hot Bod," contest.  But, I am comfortable enough with myself that I will put on a swimsuit and enjoy the pool or beach with my kids.  I like to get tan lines in the summer ("Tan fat looks better than pale fat.").   Fruity, frozen drinks while sitting on a pontoon with friends and family are some good times.  To my advantage, my best "assets" are out of the water while I'm standing in the shallow end of the pool.  My plan is to get to the cookout early, make sure the bosom looks awesome, and keep the lower half of my body underwater until everyone is intoxicated.  After enough drinks, no one will care how I look in my suit.  It may be my tipsy friends whom do not care; it may be tipsy me whom no longer cares how I look in my suit.  I believe swimsuits should come with a gift card to the nearest liquor store to make the event less painful (and more likely to be blacked out of your memory) for everyone.  I picked a suit from the, "That'll Do," pile, and I pray that I do not have to go through this process for at least a year.

The most comfortable I have ever been in swimwear was both times I was pregnant with my daughters.  It may seem strange to confess that at the two times when my body was its largest, roundest, most bulbous and swollen, those were the most content I ever felt in a swimsuit.  Why?  Because when you have a baby in your belly, no one expects you to suck in that gut.  There was a reason Sports Illustrated did not call you for the swimsuit edition that year:  you were swimming for two.  I loved floating around like a big ole whale gestating her calf in the water.  It was liberating to just bob up and down with the waves, and when I would get 'beached' on the steps of the pool, some concerned friend would roll me back into the water.  Ahhh, memories.

 

Shopping for a swimsuit, for me, is like purposely vacationing at a leper colony.  Why do I put myself in that uncomfortable place?  I guess I am the Father Damien of Swimwear.  I am sure that shopping for swimwear is a lot of fun when the size you buy is the same as your shoe size.  If that were my case, I would be arriving at my sister's Memorial Day party wearing clown shoes.