I bought myself a new bathing suit a couple of weeks ago. It’s been ages since I last had a new one. It may be the end of summer here, but I’m planning a trip to someplace warm so it will see some use before next year.
My usual style is basic and understated. I do legitimately tend to prefer simplicity and clean lines, but understatement also served to avoid drawing attention to my body.
When I was in my late teens, experimenting a little with clothing styles, the flattering clothes garnered waaay more attention than I felt comfortable with. There was simple appreciation, and attraction, and sometimes competitiveness or judgment from women. It was a kind of power, I suppose, but not one I’d ever sought, and I felt I had no control over it. I felt that attention to my body was always sexually charged in some way, and I can now see why, in the context of my sexual shame and its ultimate source, such attention felt dangerous. So I covered up.
I’m feeling a lot more comfortable in my own skin now, and I’m starting to fully possess and inhabit my flesh and curves. Because I’ve defused that shame by understanding its sources, being perceived as attractive doesn’t feel threatening the way it used to. I now choose clothes to please myself, and avoiding attention is no longer a goal. I’m not hiding anymore.
And that’s why I bought this very frivolous bathing suit.