Tuesday I went swimsuit shopping, which, on my list of favorite things to do, ranks up there with going to the dentist and filing my taxes. Even when I was in college and boasted the body of an athlete the idea of stretching skin tight Lycra underwear across my body and going out in public made me cringe. Now, several years and 20 pounds later, it makes me nauseous. Bikinis were abandoned two years ago and replaced by the more modest tankini, but even those things show little mercy.
So to deal with the torment of swimsuit shopping I did what any 21st century girl would do: I turned to Facebook. I hate shopping for swimsuits. I even despised it when I was at my happy weight. Now that I’m at my, er, not-so-happy weight, the experience is even more torturous. That’s what I posted as my status and soon my gal pals began to chime in to let me know that I was not alone. One chica even declared that Lycra is of the devil. I’m inclined to agree.
No more calling myself fat. No more standing in the mirror pinching at my sides and sucking in my belly. No more comparing my body to airbrushed images in magazines.
Next month when I hit Virginia Beach I will strut my stuff with pride whether I’ve lost five pounds or gained 10. Take that Lycra demons!