My Bikini

A couple of weeks ago my two neighbors and I converged in my driveway. My neighbor Kathy had just come back from her morning walk, and Patti, my other neighbor, was out walking her dog. The conversation meandered at some point to a discussion about the upcoming beach club season for the both of them. And we found ourselves discussing bathing suits: specifically that a recent survey stated that the cut-off year for women wearing bikinis was age 47.

I am not 47. But neither am I fat. And my muscle tone is not so terrible. Comparatively speaking, my body isn’t as bad as many women significantly younger than me. In fact, it isn’t that bad at all. But despite all that, the only place I am comfortable wearing a bikini is in my backyard where only the squirrels can see me. And even when I chose to go in my backyard, in my bikini, where only the squirrels can see me, I make sure I have received a spray tan first. And even though I only wear a bikini in my backyard where only the squirrels can see me with my spray tan, I am still insecure. I fear the squirrels in my yard will judge me and tell the other squirrels in my neighbor’s yard that I am wearing inappropriate swimwear.

So let me tell you about my bikini. It of course it black. Black is the most universally flattering swimsuit color (or at least that is what every fashion magazine I have ever read says). The top was designed by a civil engineer. And that civil engineer did design work formerly for NASA. The task after all is to elevate a large load with minimal structural support and maximum aesthetics. The top must defy gravity. The bottom, merely needs to fall below the navel and above the caesarian scar. Oh and of course the bottom needs full coverage on the rear.

I searched days and weeks in a multitude of stores to find an appropriate suit just to wear in my backyard where only the squirrels can see me with my spray tan. And when I found the perfect suit, price was an insignificant factor. Any suit that could do that much work and still look good just so the squirrels wouldn’t talk crap about me was worth any price. And let me tell you, I have spent less money on evening gowns with the matching shoes for the price of that bikini.

When I see pregnant women, and get a warm nostalgic feeling, it has nothing to do with the emotions linked with new motherhood. It is because the only time in my life I felt confident in a bathing suit was when I was pregnant. I looked like a baby beluga and it was perfectly fine. I was supposed to look that way. No one judged me. Not even the squirrels.