Swimsuit Solace

It's time to discuss something I've been avoiding like the dentist.  Swimsuit weather.  While most of the US is still under winter weather advisories, the freaking pool is open here in Louisiana.  To curb your jealousy, I need you to know there are snakes swishing their serpentine bodies through my backyard.  I can't see them but my dogs and I know they're there.  Trade off for not having to shovel snow or bang my head against the pantry for the gazillionth school closing.  

So yes, swimsuit weather is upon us.  

I take issue with the whole idea we need to reveal our pasty underly areas after a toasty and well fed winter. Who's idea was this?  

"You know what?  I haven't seen your hip flesh yet, neighbor.  Let's sidle up to each other in a lounge chair and feign natural conversation in our waterproof underwear.  Don't worry, I can barely make out your areolas. 

Or...

"I'm SO tired of holding in my stomach all day.  It is high time I let that puppy flop over an unforgiving elastic waistband with a crowd of my most active peers. Can't wait!"

Seriously.  Why do we insist on maintaining this antiquated tradition of showing off our vulnerables by way of cups that never fully cup and bottoms that have most likely become see-through upon exiting the stairwell. I'm just asking you all to avert your eyes while I scamper toward my towel, please.  

My daughter cannot wait to go to the pool.  She loves it.  She has no worries about her body staying in place because she's five.  It's totally cute when her bum cheek slides out.  It is a reason to move out of state when mine does that.  Again, I beg of you to save your retinas.  

So I went to Kmart yesterday to peruse today's trending fashion in swimwear.  You will not be disappointed that I spent no less than $60.00 to come home and look like a 1984 gymnast who really let herself go.  The navy blue with pink piping skort didn't even try to cover my ample badonk.  It held high above my waist like an innertube that was going to save my butt's life.   Great, more tire looking things around my middle.  That should distract from all the middle-aged "swelling" happening in my bosom.  I have no idea where these things came from or how I can rid myself of them.  Jumping jacks are not even funny, you guys.

At the bus stop, my beautiful friend - with the body of an 18 year old track star, mind you - let me in on her little secret.  "Swimsuit?  Girl, why you gonna wear a swimsuit?"  

I had no viable response.  

"Naw, see...you just put on some swim trunks with a cute tank top and BOOM."

Swim trunks.  Cute tank top without sewn in mammary cups.  Boom.  Her words hung over me with halos.  

Nothing public happens above thighs anymore.  

It's bad enough people have to see those wrinkly knees.  

Why didn't I think of that?  I'm almost 40 and still body hating come every spring because I don't have hard parts to show off to every other hot body at the pool?  Wasteful.  Useless.  Unhealthy and most of all unnecessary.  

My friend is right.  Ain't nobody got time for swim undies.  I'm going to march my strong, able, and voluptuous self right on up to Customer Service and return the Mary Lou inspired garments pronto.

Then I'm going to shop for a kickass pair of board shorts/swim tank combo so that I can feel like myself:  happy, healthy, and comfortable in my own skin. 

*This post is in no way to body shame those sexy girlfriends who can rock a bikini, tankini, or suit of other kinis.  You go with your hardworking self.  I just want to give myself  permission to deviate from the typical fare becausewhat's going on underneath isn't primed or anyone else's business.