TW: Eating Disorders and Body Dysmorphia
I haven’t worn a bathing suit since I was 18 years old. It’s freeing to know I no longer have to pretend to be comfortable in tiny pieces of fabric. But there’s also something inherently depressing about not feeling comfortable enough to wear a bathing suit for 14 years.
14 years is a long time since I thought I was attractive enough to wear a bathing suit in public. I loved going to the pool and the lake. I still love being near the water now. But wearing a bathing suit to do those activities has been a nightmare.
The problem is that I see my body as too unsightly to be seen in something so revealing. But what about wearing a one-piece? Sure, that would alleviate a small sliver of my stress. But a bathing suit is a bathing suit, no matter how much or how little it shows. The anxiety that radiated through my body whenever I imagined putting on a bathing suit eventually became too much for me to handle.
The body I live in is often too much for me to handle.
Once, I was bravely wearing a bikini at 14, even though I was deep into my anorexia and incredibly uncomfortable in my body. I was around 100 pounds and very thin, but my brain would not allow me to see that. I still saw the same overweight little girl every time I looked in the mirror or down at my stomach.
I still see her now, so many years later when I think of wearing a bikini.
My stomach has always been the part of my body I’ve despised the most. No matter how thin I have gotten, I’ve always seen it as soft and puffy. That vision won’t leave me.
I also remember another time. One of my best friends and I were sitting on our beach towels, waiting for the pools to open. I must have either asked her how I looked or made a comment about my body because she responded by telling me that my stomach looked soft. To some, that comment might not seem hurtful or rude. Skin is soft. The body is generally soft. But to me, a very anorexic, unhappy girl, it was devastating. I looked at her stomach which was much flatter and more toned than mine. She wasn’t anorexic or on any type of diet. She ate what she wanted and still looked better than me. I was barely eating, but people would still remind me I was fat.
I’m 32 years old now, and that comment has still stuck with me after all these years.
I think of it every time I look into the mirror and notice how tightly my dress hugs my stomach or when I sit down and see how my stomach puffs out and rolls. Her voice echoes through my mind. She, like my eating disorder, will always be with me.
One summer by the end of high school, I bought a pretty revealing one-piece bathing suit. Yes, it was not a bikini, but it felt like one because of how little fabric it was made of. This “one-piece” bathing suit was hot pink and glittery with a deep v-neck down the front. It was also backless, except for tiny strings holding it together and a small sliver of fabric covering my butt. I felt confident in it, which was new to me. I finally felt attractive.
The infamous hot pink “one-piece” bathing suit was eventually retired after one too many times of leaking hot pink dye all over my towels. That swimsuit signified the moment when everything changed. I could be just as hot as the other girls on the beach if I had that hot pink “one-piece.” But when I lost it, I reverted to my usual world of self-hatred.
That one-piece and the other bikini were the last two bathing suits I owned — until this summer.
I ended a significant romantic relationship at the start of this summer, and I vowed to make this season a time of healing and coming back home to myself. One way I decided to achieve this goal was to finally buy myself another swimsuit.
It took me weeks to choose one. I finally settled on an all-black bikini. When it arrived, I was too afraid to even try it on at first. But I reminded myself that I would have to take uncomfortable steps if I wanted to move forward. This was one of those steps.
One day I found the courage to try it on and was amazed at how comfortable I felt. After 14 years of avoiding wearing a bathing suit, I was happily wearing a bikini.
Have I worn it outside of that moment yet? No. But I have taken that first uncomfortable step, so I know I will eventually be able to take the next one.
Featured image via Anna Shvets on Pexels
