Eff a bikini. Seriously.
I realized yesterday just how many subliminal and downright obvious messages salt-and-pepper every bit of women's entertainment. From advertisements to info-mercials to comedies to dramas to documentaries to music, someone is always making some side comment or making a big deal about fitting into a bikini. Oh, the desperation. "Going to the mall to find a bathing suit is torture! I hate summer!" "Look at her in that bikini. I hate her." "I can't eat today--we're going to the beach tomorrow." "I wore this bikini in high school! My husband can'd keep his hands off me now!" She wore an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka dot bikini...
Humans will probably be living on exo-planets before I find myself in a bikini again. And you know what? Who flipping cares? A swimsuit is not the End All or the Be All of Life. It doesn't have the power to make me happy, make me successful, give me self-esteem, pay my bills, or make me sexy, unless I give it that power. (That would be a no.) A woman can fit the smallest bathing suit, and yet be unhealthy or still be the ugliest thing walking because of a nasty attitude.
I make me happy when I'm not. I boost my self-esteem when it's down. I make me sexy. 24/7.
In a few days, I'll be hitting the road with my mom and one of her best friends (who has a time-share condo) to Myrtle Beach. This has been planned for a while. It hasn't even occurred to me to go make myself miserable by obsessing over beachware in some store. I wouldn't mind looking great in a swimsuit, sure. Who wouldn't? But if that isn't possible for now, I'm not going to live in Depression City. What this Big Girl is going to do is put all the lovely junk in my trunk into a nice pair of capris or a flowing sundress, sashay myself down to the Atlantic, and have more fun than I've had in months. I'll probably chat up some hottie. And get chatted up.
Don't get me wrong. If you can fit into a bikini, enjoy it! That's cool. If you aspire to fit into a bikini and are working towards that goal, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Go for it. But when your life, outlook, and mental health depend on a bikini, you've got a problem.
I'll be getting back to The Birds and Tippi Hedren now.
Humans will probably be living on exo-planets before I find myself in a bikini again. And you know what? Who flipping cares? A swimsuit is not the End All or the Be All of Life. It doesn't have the power to make me happy, make me successful, give me self-esteem, pay my bills, or make me sexy, unless I give it that power. (That would be a no.) A woman can fit the smallest bathing suit, and yet be unhealthy or still be the ugliest thing walking because of a nasty attitude.
I make me happy when I'm not. I boost my self-esteem when it's down. I make me sexy. 24/7.
In a few days, I'll be hitting the road with my mom and one of her best friends (who has a time-share condo) to Myrtle Beach. This has been planned for a while. It hasn't even occurred to me to go make myself miserable by obsessing over beachware in some store. I wouldn't mind looking great in a swimsuit, sure. Who wouldn't? But if that isn't possible for now, I'm not going to live in Depression City. What this Big Girl is going to do is put all the lovely junk in my trunk into a nice pair of capris or a flowing sundress, sashay myself down to the Atlantic, and have more fun than I've had in months. I'll probably chat up some hottie. And get chatted up.
Don't get me wrong. If you can fit into a bikini, enjoy it! That's cool. If you aspire to fit into a bikini and are working towards that goal, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Go for it. But when your life, outlook, and mental health depend on a bikini, you've got a problem.
I'll be getting back to The Birds and Tippi Hedren now.