Swimsuit season has always been its own brand of evil in my world — so much so, that I had put, “Be confident in a bikini” on my bucket list.
Growing up, I wasn’t ever all that lean — I was a tad bit huskier and had quite a tummy that I carried around.
At 7 years old, you’re not thinking about whether or not the cut of fabric drapes across your body in a flattering manner, but rather, thinking about what pattern you like the most. It’s all about functionality AND fashion. We would always have the cutest little one piece suits or tankinis. These allowed us to not worry about whether or not our suit would fly off if we also flew off the tube. We just lived our summers in the suits that we had and didn’t think twice about it.
Woo hoooo, everything is fine and dandy, we’re living our best lives, not letting a silly piece of fabric hinder our happiness, BUT WAIT…
What about puberty?
DAMN…
Puberty became a thing that was not only talked about in theory, but that was happening. IN REAL LIFE.
All of the things that they taught us in Growth and Development was full blown occurring and it was weird and awful and it felt embarrassing that my body was doing this thing that I didn’t know how to combat. In hindsight, it feels silly that I was embarrassed that my body was capable of this completely natural and mostly necessary thing…but you don’t tell a 12 year old that. How do you explain that for the next 38 years or so of your life, this will happen? You don’t have a choice but to take it in stride.
NEWS FLASH : at 12, that SUCKS.
Upon entering this gauntlet of growing up, hormones are raging, the body is changing, and with that, came loads of insecurities. All I wanted, was to fit in. To feel wanted. To be part of something. And I started wearing bikinis and was HELLA uncomfy. I always wanted to stand with my arms covering my stomach, constantly hoping that I hadn’t missed any spots while I shaved my legs, and praying that nobody noticed all of the small things that bothered me while I was clad in this small amount of fabric.
Gone were the days of frolicking freely with no care in the world — now I was worried about making sure that I covered everything that needed to be covered, prayed that I wasn’t on my period for some large occasion (the bloat is real, people), and generally had a poor time with this season. I loved summer for plenty of wonderful things that it brought, but the swimsuit part of summer gave me anxiety. I hated swimsuit shopping. With unflattering dressing room light, trying to make sure I picked a color that wouldn’t wash me out more than I already was, and trying to create the illusion of the cleavage that I so desperately wanted, it was EXHAUSTING.
In my head, there was always a finite ratio and proportion for swimsuit season. For me, I needed to have my stomach in alignment with my chest, because I was not #blessed in that area. I envied the people who were, because they at least created a differentiation between the top and bottom half of their body.
I was jealous of the girls who might’ve been larger than I, but ran around in their suit, seemingly free of the thoughts that weighed me down.
I was jealous of the girls that were naturally lean and had what I had perceived to be the “perfect” swimsuit body.
I hid my body.
I’d wear a bikini, but only to lay out. I would cover myself up with a towel or a shirt to avoid showing that much skin.
I bought push up suits to make me feel better about the lack of cleavage that I had. I think deep down, I thought that it would make me seem more desirable — oh you poor girl, letting your mind control so much of your life.
As I’ve alluded to in other posts, I had an unhealthy relationship with exercise too. If you couple that with the deprecating thoughts that I already had about the season, man oh man, I was never satisfied.
I could look in the mirror, have a nice toned stomach, and all I would see was the lack of toning in my arms. No matter what, I always found something to nit pick. I in no way am saying that it’s bad to have goals on things to improve, however, every goal should be made by acknowledging the progress that has already happened.
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As you might imagine, I had a hard time with taking photos in swimsuits too. Part of it was insecurity and part of it was some form of modesty. I’ve always enjoyed the idea of having my body be some sort of mystery — to never fold all of my cards. The insecure part of me didn’t want a moment frozen in time where I wasn’t looking my best.
So for years and as long as I’ve had social media, you cannot find a photo of me in a swimsuit. You’ll see a photo in a swimsuit top occasionally, but NEVER the full image. Never.
The vain part of me had this crazy thought that I would only post a photo when I was in the best shape of my life and then it would be like, “Huh, so that’s what Jordan looks like.” It’s like in the movies when you go back to a class reunion and everyone is like, “DAMN, Jerry got HOT.”
And how vain is that? How involved was I with not only myself, but with how much someone else could control my happiness? GET A GRIP, GIRL.
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So I’ve struggled for years with body image issues and mentally combatting them. I’ve made the largest strides in the last two years, both with feeling highly dissatisfied with my body and with feeling incredibly proud.
Last summer, we went to Florida to celebrate the end of the school year. Junior Year was tough and I had made the decision in January to give myself a break from the gym. I wasn’t in the right place mentally and the gym wasn’t helping, but rather, became more discouraging.
We went on vacation and I was in a swimsuit for a large portion of it. I was getting phenomenal sun, but man, I was not comfy with how my body looked or how incapable it was. I struggled to go for a run, I couldn’t carry heavier things — it was my wake up call.
Now, I’m not saying that anything is wrong with this photo, but even though there is a smile on my face, I was uncomfortable. I wasn’t happy with how I felt.
I took last summer off from exercise too — I still wasn’t in a good place mentally. I couldn’t bring myself to complete a workout, I had no motivation, and it just wasn’t on my list.
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The start of senior year brought a lot of great things for my mental health. I went back to a therapist at CAPS to talk about life, I started doing yoga, and I started giving my mind and body a break. Yoga taught me that every single day is an opportunity to start fresh — even if I could do a move yesterday, that doesn’t mean that I can do it today. And that it was perfectly OK.
I started appreciating my body for all that it could do. I was getting back into working out and listening to what my body wanted, not what my ego thought it needed to look like. I was doing things that weren’t overworking it, like I so often used to do.
And you know what? My body liked that. In February, we went to Miami — another place for swimsuits. I came into it with a much different mindset, even going so far as to bring a cheekier suit that I had bought to lay out.
As we prepared to go to the beach, I ended up wearing the cheeky suit. In Mom’s words, “We’re in Miami, you have a nice ass. Wear the suit.”
And so I did. I walked on the beach with no qualms about whether or not my body was jiggling, because I was in my happy place — near the water with wind in my hair.
I exited the water, looking right at the lens of Mom’s camera and smiled. Smiled a real smile. Smiled and didn’t even think about the fact that I was wearing a suit. I was happy.
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The rest of the year brought a lot of awareness for self-love and body love, and I went into summer with great feelings. We were headed to Greece, a place that had graced my bucket list, and I was excited to see the water that I had spent so long thinking about. The Aegean Sea has a special place in my heart for sure. AND I was in good shape. I felt good about myself and was ready to strut in my suit. I didn’t care who was watching, because I felt good.
We got to Greece and like all over the top expectations, my bubble burst when I realized that I was going to spend the next 7 days bloated and possibly uncomfortable from cramps.
I mean, COME ON body. Couldn’t you have spared me like 4 days? Couldn’t I have this moment?
I pitied myself for all of 5 minutes and then got myself together. I was in GREECE. I was healthy. I was happy. I was going to wear my damn swimsuit and get some good sunshine. I don’t care what people say or think. This is my body — capable of running without pain, recovering from injuries, and anything I put my mind to. SURELY, I can wear this swimsuit.
And you know what? I’ve been liberated from the swimsuit.
So yeah, I’m posting a picture in my swimsuit. The first ever. Am I in the best shape of my life? Nah. Am I okay with that? Yeah. Am I loving all of the sunshine? Heck yeah. Am I loving my confidence in my body? For sure for sure.
So, if you’re hesitant or feeling any of these things, thank your body instead. Your bruises, scars, stretch marks, freckles, birth marks, etc…they are all beautiful. Your body is capable! Let it enjoy all that this season can bring. Hop on a tube. Ride a wave. Tan your bum. Show a little skin. Show a lot of skin. But appreciate that no matter what you may perceive as the “perfect” body, someone else might be feeling EXACTLY the same as you’ve felt. Do not talk down to yourself about this beautiful vessel that carries you everywhere you need to be. You’ve got only one — take care of it. Love it.
Give yourself a break and enjoy swimsuit season. They’ve got tons of cute suits and you’ve got a cute bod. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.
Like that viral article…I say, just put on your damn suit.
You’ve got this, boo boo.
xo, jo