Bathing Suit Betrayal
July 25, 2016
Yesterday was a total bust.
Was feeling decent about my bikini situation until two things happened:
#1 - I went to put on a suit that I bought for a special beach vacay earlier this year, and the bottoms squished me in SO hard, it was nearly comical. Not even close to being a new sensation for me, but extra frustrating when I remembered that they definitely USED to fit. Instantly cranky because THIS was the suit that I actually settled for in a larger size when none of the others in my drawer would work. (Just for the record, after staring into the mirror through a few 360-degree rotations of disbelief, I relented and changed into an old favorite with adjustable side-ties.)
#2 - After that, the rest of the morning felt a little tainted, but my heart sunk even further when I realized who my beach buddy was for the day...
It's going to sound counterintuitive because she is one of my favorite people on the planet AND someone who I know loves me despite how I look. She also, happens to have one of the best bikini bodies that I have ever seen.
Come to think of it, all of my closest girlfriends have really beautiful figures that I admire, but for some reason I've always cared a lot about how my outside self appears to this one particular person.
Currently thinking back to why that might be, and here is my guess:
She is the one who has seen me at every shape and every size, and I have this weird fear that the least favorite version of myself is the one that has always stuck in her brain. No evidence to support this, so I'm probably being ridiculous and I definitely need to let it go.
She is also one of the only people (besides Gerard) who has heard some of my internal struggles with my weight. When we're together and I'm not at my ideal shape/size, I feel this weird little twinge of shame...*
Reminds me a little bit of when you tell someone at work that you're trying realllly hard to get that promotion and then they walk up behind your desk and see that you've been browsing ShopBop with your earbuds in and an episode of Fixer Upper playing in the background.
Here's what I mean:
She knows that I have high ideals for myself in this area (most areas?) and by letting her see that I'm not matching up, I'm embarrassed by the admission that I'm not living up to the standard.
This is not what I was planning to write about today, but it feels helpful to have on paper as I continue to work through it.
Will write more tomorrow, and in the meantime -- I'm making a mental note to pack more sarongs next year.
*She'd be heartbroken and hurt if she knew all of this. Someday I will tell her for the sake of saying: Thank you for loving me anyway.