Sunday, September 05, 2010
We're going to a friend's pool party today. I like hanging out with this crowd, it's a beautiful day to be outside, and I love swimming. So how can anything be wrong?
It's the thought of spending an afternoon in a swimsuit.
I hate my thighs and hips. I woke up one day in my 30s and realized I had my mother's thighs. I don't know whose thighs she had at that point, maybe her mother's. But my thighs had transformed - no longer cutely chubby, like a baby, they now were bubbled with cellulite and spider veins. And these days, 20-ish years later, there are some wrinkles and sags around the knees.
So there's that feeling of dread at the thought of time in a swimsuit.
I know, there are coverups. Wraps. All those disguises we wear to cover "problem" areas.
But there are those times of walking to the pool's edge. Getting out of the pool and towelling off. All that. All those moments when those thighs will be exposed.
I'll brave it. But I have to admit, there's that feeling of dread in the middle of my stomach, those random thoughts that maybe I should skip the pool and just sit by the side. I won't, because I do love to swim. But there are those moments.