Ok enough of serious posting. Let’s talk about bathing suits. I went at lunch and braved the dressing rooms with armloads of suits (tankinis, because I don’t think they even make one-pieces any more), in hopes of finding one that would make me not want to bleach the eyes of beachgoers.
Kathy posted and said that she thought I had an okay bathing suit body, but here’s the thing: I NEVER would have let Marie post a photo of me in a bathing suit, or in revealing clothing. So, never would she post a photo of my thighs. Because, dear readers, here is my secret: my upper thighs look like bell peppers. Seriously. Normal knees, normal lower thighs, and then BAM! Stuffed pepper thighs. It’s quite bizarre. And they have always been shaped like that.
I could be shipwrecked on a remote island and finally succumb to starvation, and when my body was discovered, emaciated and gaunt, the traveling doctor of the expedition would stroke his beard and say, “But surely something else killed this woman, her face and thighs are so full and meaty!” (He would be a British Colonial from the 1700s for some reason. I think they were looking for Spanish gold when they found my island.)
In the past I have exercised away my belly, I have starved away my muffin top, but the cheeks and thighs have always remained. When I was young (8 or 9 years old) I dreamed of the day I would become a scientist and devise a serum that, when injected into the thighs just so would grow a new layers of skin from the insides out and eventually allow me to peel off the unsightly chunks flesh from my legs. I still think of my wonder elixir whenever I prepare chicken breasts, because in my imagination that’s what the hunks of fat looked like.
So yeah, bathing suit shopping isn’t high on my list of fun things to do. But I discovered that suits made to conceal the thighs (boyshorts, skirted suits, etc.) actually draw the eye to the problem area, they in effect scream “HOLEE SHIT LOOK AT THESE THIGHS! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT???”, so I’ve moved back to a more normal suit style, in a basic black or olive drab color. I am THAT exciting.
I used to think that if I just exercised enough I could look like Gabrielle Reese in my suit, but it just isn’t meant to be. That’s not to say that now I’ve had a kid I’m going to give up on trying to be in shape, but I think perhaps my standards are more realistic. If I eat right and try to haul my ass to the gym occasionally, I can put on a suit and have fun with my friends/baby/family when I hit the beach instead of worrying about my jigglation. At this point in life, that works for me.