Well, we did it, girls. We made it through another brutal winter holed up alone in our apartments with our DVR, our cat and a case of Snickers. And unless we all get raptured this weekend, summer is right around the corner. Of course, nice warm weather also means exposed arms, buckets of back sweat, humidity-induced frizz and… bathing suits. Every year we’re forced to decide if we want to stuff the meat into a sausage casing or hang it out in the sun to fry. One-piece or bikini? Give me a burqini, amirightladies? It’s almost impossible to enjoy the canned strawberry daiquiris I snuck into the pool knowing that I look like something that should be thrown in the rejected pile at a butcher shop. Beached whale? Maybe in my 20s!!
And all the bikini ads don’t help. Attention clothing retailers: Seeing sexy, wet women in bikinis striking poses I couldn’t dream of being able to do even as a teenager doesn’t make me want to buy swimwear from you, it makes me run (okay, powerwalk… okay, walk) for the hills with at least three months’ worth of Xanax.
Or, I can confront my demons. I can look at each picture and say “No, demon cloth trying to shame me into thinking you could make me sexy. You can’t. And you can’t hurt me anymore.” I’ve heard canned strawberry daiquiris help the healing process get started.