Depending on who you ask, the photo above is either a portrait of me on the beach, or a portrait of a lady in a magenta bikini with me blocking the view. My husband took the photo, and he nervously insists it’s the former. Which is why I’ve allowed him to remain my husband.
On the afternoon this photo was taken, we were at the beach with our friend Kathy. I told her I might buy a bikini to wear during our vacation in Australia, and that it would be the first time I had ever worn a bikini in my life.
She was shocked by this. But I explained that I’ve never had permission to wear a bikini because I’d never had a “bikini body”. (Even as a high school athlete I was fit and muscular yet simultaneously flabby in all the key places. WTF?)
Kathy had never heard of such a ridiculous idea. And apparently, no one else had either, because as I looked around the beach, I noticed that EVERY woman was wearing a bikini– grandmothers, teenagers, and toddlers alike.
Apparently, ”bikini body” was an idea fabricated in my own insecure imagination. I thought I needed permission to wear one– permission from a culture that tells us who looks good and who doesn’t, who is worthy and who isn’t. But the only permission I needed was my own.
So I wore a pink striped bikini in Australia. Not so much because I love bikinis, but because I don’t want to be someone who has never worn one simply because I was waiting around for permission.
This Is Not Really About Bikinis
Skimpy swimwear is a metaphor for whatever else happens to be the carrot at the end of your stick: your secret wish, your deepest desire, that which you have the permission– the duty– to chase. (Except if you’re an emotionally unstable celebrity stalker. In that case, stop chasing the carrot because you’re creeping us all out.)
But for those of us with non-creepy desires, know that whatever the prize may be, you don’t want to look back during your mid-life crisis and kick yourself for having waited around so damn long for a green light.
So reach for your prize now. Apologize later.
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P.S.
Mom can’t find hers but she knows she left it somewhere.
I am content that I will never have a bikini body!
Good, because I don’t want to see you in one!
I think the bikini body thing is an American invention. Nowhere else really seems to care about it. I’ve started wearing one in recent years but it took several years of living outside the US before I decided to give it a go…!
Interesting and very possible. Except it in Australia. We were shocked to see how few overweight people there were compared to in the US!
Yeah… I’m always shocked by how weird I feel when I’m back in the States— like I don’t fit in because I’m neither super skinny nor massively overweight (that’s mostly trips to Houston talking). But to get back to topic— Brazil is the real place for ‘be proud of whatever body you’ve got’ – lycra is like a main food group of apparel…
Permission to be me! That’s what I’ve given myself in recent years. But I’ve also grown to allow others the same pleasure. (except where they may be aggressive or passive-aggressive types. In which case I tactfully stand up for myself.) I said last year I was going to get a bikini. Haven’t yet. But still plan to. Now it will be a metaphor for something much more meaningful.
YES! That’s awesome, Diane! Go get yourself the bikini of your dreams and rock the heck out of it, all in the name of Freedom. Congrats on all the other manifestations of ball growth in your life too. Those are some pretty excellent ones you listed.
So where are the pictures of you frolicking in your pink striped bikini?
I have recently have myself the green light to find a place more suitable to my interests (as you know). My former therapist said that I’m a tree; I put my roots down in places that don’t provide appropriate nutrients. So recently, I’ve been thinking of myself as an oak tree trying to flourish in the desert! I’ve learned a lot and I don’t feel like these past 8.5 years have been a waste. At this point I realize it’s not a fit and I’ve learned the lessons I came here to learn. So universe… Give me wings and place me somewhere close to nurturing people who I can live beside and deepen our interests together around compassionate and earthy crunchy lifestyle. If I’ve forgotten to ask for something, oh wise universe, I trust you will provide me with more life lessons to guide me towards my truth… even the hard life lessons.
That’s a spot-on beautiful metaphor from your former therapist. I really do hope your prayer to the Universe lands you on fertile grounds for happiness. Preferably within a 15-minute drive from me, of course.
And yeah, I thought about including my bikini photo in here but I’m more comfortable showing people my balls than my boobs.