Swimsuit Season

Mirrors should be outlawed. The three panel mirrors in dressing rooms should be a felony. Is there anything worse than confronting cold, unflinching reality under the harsh glow of fluorescent lighting?

I recently went swimsuit shopping. I know it’s a recipe for disaster, but I need a new one. So, I prepared myself in the time-honored tradition of chubby girls who go swimsuit shopping. I shaved and waxed. I fixed my hair and put on makeup. The hair and makeup alone should make me look 10 pounds lighter. I was optimistic. This year, at last, I wouldn’t leave the dressing room depressed and in tears. I am cute, by golly, and I need a suit that’s just as cute so we can go swimming together!

(Do you hear that ominous sounding music in the background?)

I went to the store. I picked out three suits. I didn’t even lie to myself about my size, so they were actually the suits I needed. I’ve grabbed suits a size or two too small in the past only to feel huge when they don’t fit. Better to need a smaller size than a bigger one. That’s some good thinkin’ right there. I was proud. I was confident. This year would be different!

AAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Back fat! I have back fat! Not all over smooth back fat either. No! Mine has to come in lumps and folds. ‘Cause that’s pretty. How have I missed this? I also missed the fact that without a bra my boobs are exactly one inch from my kneecaps. Why is there no support in any of these suits? They aren’t this saggy at home. I know, because I checked things out before I left the house. I have no mirror that shows my my lumpy, bumpy self from the back. I have the kind at home that makes me look 15 pounds lighter, 10 years younger (except that pesky one in the kids’ bathroom). And what’s with the skirts on swimsuits? I thought I wanted one for the sake of modesty, but now I see that I just look like a dancing hippo from Fantasia.

I’m going to the beach in 10 days…if I start working out today, can I be a size 4 by the time we go? And just exactly what happens to the skin on the back fat when the back fat is gone? Does it get flat and saggy like the boobs? Am I destined to end up looking like a shirt that desperately needs to be ironed?

I miss pregnancy. Not because of the baby at the end, or any of the weird cravings or morning sickness. I miss it because I miss the way it’s okay to be just the shape I am when I’m pregnant. All the lumps smooth out in the most charming ways. People smile when I waddle a bit. The boobs fill out and lift up. It’s one of those little known beauty secrets.

I’ve decided to buy a pregnancy belly pillow thingy to wear to the beach. People will judge me by the size of my family, but the size of my behind will be just right.