Last month brought a heat wave to my part of the world. The sudden change from 60 degree windy weather to mid-eighty degree heat had us all digging through our closets for our summer clothes.
Much to my dismay, I discovered that my extra layer of winter insulation was still sticking around. In other words, I was too fat for my shorts, tanks & capris. I mean I could wear them, but like cramming a hot dog into a straw, it isn’t pretty.
So I’d have to melt inside my stretchy jeans and blouson tops and ride out the brief heat wave. No problem. But I couldn’t get the Jaws theme song out of my head. July was around the corner and that meant…du dum. Du dum. Dadadadadadadada….. Swim suit season was almost upon me.
I have dreaded swimsuits since middle school, when my mom bought me a white and red striped cotton swimsuit. Transparent when wet and created so much friction, I got stuck halfway down every waterslide and slip & slide there was. Who knew such an immodest suit could be so little fun?
Even in high school, when I looked good in a bikini, swimsuits were a nightmare. Those French cut suits were in style… before Brazilians were. It’s difficult to exude confidence when every movement means escaping curlies. And no swimsuit back then hid the tell-tale signs of how cold the water was. I’m told this is a good thing, but at the time it was mortifying.
And now? I have had three children and zero plastic surgery… so, yikes. Cellulite that needs hiding and a couple of wardrobe malfunctions waiting to happen. I’d avoid the situation altogether if it weren’t for the fact that I live in a desert. If I don’t take my kiddos to the pool, they spend their summers inside with the air conditioning, in front of some kind of screen.
I could wear a parka, but that would draw more attention to myself than my swimsuit issues, especially since it’d probably induce heat stroke and I’d end up leaving in the flashing lights of an ambulance. I could suck in my gut, but sooner or later I’d need to breathe. I could wear one of those swimsuits from the 1920s. Those were attractive. Like a wrestling unitard with a skirt attached. I think that much fabric might weigh me down in the water. Potential drowning hazard.
Here’s my plan… cover-ups. I buy a cute cover-up, wear it until I plan to submerge myself and then hide in the water. Swimsuit exposure is kept to a minimum, thirty seconds in & out.
But mostly I’ll just remind myself that I am not the center of the universe, and all eyes are not going to be focused on me. It’s ridiculous to worry about it so much when clearly, many people out there don’t. Unfortunately. The public pool in the summertime can be a true assault on the eyes.
Much to my dismay, I discovered that my extra layer of winter insulation was still sticking around. In other words, I was too fat for my shorts, tanks & capris. I mean I could wear them, but like cramming a hot dog into a straw, it isn’t pretty.
So I’d have to melt inside my stretchy jeans and blouson tops and ride out the brief heat wave. No problem. But I couldn’t get the Jaws theme song out of my head. July was around the corner and that meant…du dum. Du dum. Dadadadadadadada….. Swim suit season was almost upon me.
I have dreaded swimsuits since middle school, when my mom bought me a white and red striped cotton swimsuit. Transparent when wet and created so much friction, I got stuck halfway down every waterslide and slip & slide there was. Who knew such an immodest suit could be so little fun?
Even in high school, when I looked good in a bikini, swimsuits were a nightmare. Those French cut suits were in style… before Brazilians were. It’s difficult to exude confidence when every movement means escaping curlies. And no swimsuit back then hid the tell-tale signs of how cold the water was. I’m told this is a good thing, but at the time it was mortifying.
And now? I have had three children and zero plastic surgery… so, yikes. Cellulite that needs hiding and a couple of wardrobe malfunctions waiting to happen. I’d avoid the situation altogether if it weren’t for the fact that I live in a desert. If I don’t take my kiddos to the pool, they spend their summers inside with the air conditioning, in front of some kind of screen.
I could wear a parka, but that would draw more attention to myself than my swimsuit issues, especially since it’d probably induce heat stroke and I’d end up leaving in the flashing lights of an ambulance. I could suck in my gut, but sooner or later I’d need to breathe. I could wear one of those swimsuits from the 1920s. Those were attractive. Like a wrestling unitard with a skirt attached. I think that much fabric might weigh me down in the water. Potential drowning hazard.
Here’s my plan… cover-ups. I buy a cute cover-up, wear it until I plan to submerge myself and then hide in the water. Swimsuit exposure is kept to a minimum, thirty seconds in & out.
But mostly I’ll just remind myself that I am not the center of the universe, and all eyes are not going to be focused on me. It’s ridiculous to worry about it so much when clearly, many people out there don’t. Unfortunately. The public pool in the summertime can be a true assault on the eyes.
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