To Suit Up Or Not

In my previous post I mentioned how difficult it is for me to wear a bathing suit. I think it goes way back to when I was in middle school. I can remember being in gym class and being self conscious of my....hmmmm....back side. Some would say I'm blessed in that area, but others who suffer, and I do mean suffer, the same problem understand that it feels like quite the curse to be large butted (if butted is a word).

It is hereditary and I get it from both my mother and fathers sides. Of course my dad wasn't big butted (I'm beginning to like that word), but his sisters were and my mother was quite blessed herself. My half aunt was blessed enough for at least three. I never envied her for that, rather, I prayed that I would never see the day when I found myself matching her pant size.

I'm sure some of you are thinking it's foolish I should even mention my big buttedness but I don't do it to draw attention or belittle myself, really. It's just a fact. It's there, it's mine and it ain't going anywhere.

So we're in Hawaii and I'm wearing a suit that quite frankly looks like an old ladies suit. Pretty, but old ladyish. When I go into the water, the suit floats up because it was made with inserts. So here I am this lovely colored bathing suit that makes me look like a living buoy. Between my breastes floating, due to the buoy inserts and my skirt going up allowing my butt to take me to a floating position, I begin to get a little annoyed. I can't keep my feet on the ground and my buoyies, rather, breastes are floating. Every time a wave hits I have to hang on to the top and then quickly grab my bottom. Had I been born an octopus I still would not have enough hands to hold my suit in place. Michael Jackson would have envied my moves. By this time, to say that I'm annoyed would be underplaying my emotions. Carlos and I head out of the water and back to the beach towels.

I look at Pam and she not only read my mind, she saw first hand what I was up against and say's "noticed your having a little trouble". Simple as that. I'm thinking - this is day one, I got eight more to go....hmmmm.

I sit on my towel and start watching. Watching. Watching. Watching. Being the observant person I am, I notice that the majority of women, ladies, girls, those of the female gender are all just about as "sturdy" as I am. They're all wearing the latest in fashion suits without the least care of how much is hanging, and I mean hanging, out. I don't think I've ever seen more flab, blubber or dimples in my entire life. The wheels are turning girls.

We get back to our room. I try on a two/three piece suit I bought a year back after having lost about 15 pounds. So I put 10 of it back on, with a little Vaseline I can still get into it. The 3rd piece is a skirted bottom. I try it on but although I'm not wearing panties, I have panty lines. Whatever! I decide to wear my jean shorts to the beach the next day.

Day two: Carlos and I discuss the bathing suit situation and decide I should just wear my jeans, I'll feel more comfortable and get a little tan on my mid-section too. It's not perfect but at least I'll be able to keep myself down in the water. We have a great day at the beach until we decide to walk back to the condo. I'm still in my jean shorts because I didn't think to take anything to change into after the water. Duh!

As we walk along the boulevard we're feeling great except for one thing; my legs are chaffing due to the sand caught in the jeans. We still have quite a ways to go and although sand paper may work well on wood, it can be most uncomfortable when rubbed between your legs. Do not try it at home, just take my word for it.

As my light goes on, I tell Carlos "we're stopping at one of these stores so I can buy some men's trunks, I can't take this anymore". He's cool with the whole idea so we go into the local ABC store which is much like 7-Eleven except that they also sell clothes and of course all the tourist junk anyone could ever want. It's here that I find the "Hawaii" skort. It's perfect! I'm hearing angels sing in jubilation. I find a peace about me I haven't known since that day at 39 years of age and unmarried to JC that I was able to get through the words "I'm pregnant" to my mother. It's an "ahhhhh" moment indeed.

We get home and while JCarlosBoza is in the shower I quickly try on my newly acquired bathing girdle to make sure I can actually fit into it without breaking my husbands heart that it just isn't big enough. It fits! Yes, it fits! A little snug but I'm in, and that is all that matters. There's a slight overflow around the top of the short, and a wee bit making every effort to slip out the bottom but if I fold my arms around my mid-section and pay careful attention not to let it sneak up too much, I can pass just as well as any of those women, ladies, girls, those of the female gender who are just as flabby, blubbery, dimplery and sturdy as I am.

Darn it! I will not allow my imperfect body to keep me off that beach and out of the water. I will have a good time. I will, I will, I will!

And so, there you have it. True confessions from a woman who has come to accept that if your gonna be self conscience to the point that you cannot have fun....your not gonna have fun. Sometimes you just gotta let it all hang out, as they say, and go with the flow. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but once I did it baaaaby was I free!