no thanks to the neon

I shaved my legs for the occasion.

It was necessary to do, even in the middle of winter, before embarking on the daunting quest I set before myself:

Bathing suit shopping.

I haven’t bought a new bathing suit in almost four years. Mostly because WHO VOLUNTARILY TRIES ON SWIMSUITS and also because the last time I bought one it was perfect. That black one piece fit me like a glove, so figure flattering and an absolute dream of a find. But, y’know, four years is a long time for a woman’s body to change.

Boobs, man.

Last week I signed up for aqua therapy and then got home and realized I didn’t actually have anything to wear into the pool. It’s a good thing I realized that before I scheduled my first session otherwise hello improvised bathing suit aka ill-fitting spandex from back in the days of playing high school volleyball.

Ick.

The key to going shopping ASAP was, well, just to go. No time to think about the extra curves I’ve acquired over the years, no time to analyze skin that never sees the light of day, no time to think about all the squats I could’ve done in my lifetime.

There was, of course, just enough time to shave my legs. Just enough.

My mascara was on point that day, hair behaving like a lady, and I felt like I had lost 10 lbs when I stepped out of the shower. (Thank you, Gillette.) Even though I knew they’d be coming off in the change room, I wore my “I mean business” boots – the ones that make me feel much more than two inches taller than usual & make me walk with bold purpose. I take the recycling to the curb like a boss in those boots, yo.

There were a few other people in the store with me, the sound of plastic hangers screeching along metal racks coming from almost every corner. I made my way to the one pieces and started my own section of the hanger symphony.

A smiling salesperson came over and asked if I was going anywhere special.

“To the pool!” I replied, a bit more enthusiastically than I was expecting to come out of my mouth. As she continued to smile back at me, I went on, “I’m starting aqua therapy. I was in a car accident ages ago and I did it way back in the day and I loved it so I figured I should do it again and here I am!”

She laughed and asked if I knew my size. I told her and she went off to find some options for me, clearly wearing her “I mean business” ballet flats because the woman was back before I had enough time to get to the chorus of the song I was crafting with the hangers.

I stopped her before she could even hold up the array of neon patterned polyester suits she had in her hands.

If I’m going to be putting this thing on multiple times a week, already feeling uncomfortable about the situation – half-naked in a public area while I figure out just how much my body can physically handle – I need to LOVE it. The kind of love where the price tag turns into self-confidence points. The kind of love where I walk around my house in it for fun. The kind of love that makes me want to go to the pool on days I don’t even have aqua therapy.

So, no thanks to the neon.

She laughed again, offering the polyester as a more chlorine-resistant option if I changed my mind, and brought my picks into a changing room for me.

I took a deep breath, surveying the body-length mirrors surrounding me.

Good. Flattering lighting. Excellent sales technique, Swimco.

I sat down to take off my business boots and reminded myself why I was there, feeling uncomfortable and squirmy in my own skin even if the light was good and I had shaved my legs and the sales lady was really nice about everything.

I love my body.

I love my body.

I love my body.

I love my body, which is why I’m doing all these things; physio, massage, aqua therapy. I want my body to be strong again. I want to feel tired at the end of the day because I used this body to do good, hard work, not because of old car accident injuries. I know it’s not perfect, that it’s been a long time since I genuinely loved it, but I am actively telling myself that I love my body even when I’m not looking forward to seeing what stares back at me in the mirror.

So, taking more deep breaths and picking the nearest bathing suit to try on first, I began.

And then I shocked myself.

I liked them. All of them.

Every bathing suit. Those one pieces were so magical they must have been from Narnia. It only took three for me to find the one I loved – black with white trim and ruching all around to make me feel another 10 lbs lighter. It was like wearing Spanx, all my curves in all the right places – with the exception that I could breathe properly. My face was a mixture of shock and delight as I looked at myself in the mirror.

I love my body.

I love my body.

I love my body.

I walked out of the store less than 15 minutes after I entered, gushing over this piece of beautifully crafted spandex to the same smiling salesperson. I couldn’t believe that I had been so uncomfortable about the situation.

Well, I could. All of the things I’ve been doing lately, all the treatments & programs I’ve started, have brought seven years of being uncomfortable to the surface. Years of feeling like my body isn’t strong, isn’t good enough, isn’t able to do anything like it used to. It’s all finally breaking through. My eyeballs wouldn’t stop leaking during my first physio session last week and I didn’t really know why at the time, but I know it’s because I’m uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable getting the words out to describe my pain, unfamiliar with how much I’m allowed to share, uneasy about getting my hopes up about relief.

But I know that improvement only comes from being uncomfortable.

I’m ready to stop feeling uncomfortable. This isn’t about dropping sizes and being skinny; this is about being strong. About letting go of the past seven years. About loving my body. And so I will continue to repeat:

I love my body.

I love my body.

I love my body.

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