I was 5 years old when I got invited to my very first pool party.
I remember my mother taking me to a local department store to pick out a new swimsuit for the occasion. As soon as we got into the girl's section, I saw it — a bright yellow bikini with big white daises that had '90s-BB-Lauren written all over it.
"That one," I pointed to the bikini earnestly, looking at my mom with my best puppy dog eyes. She smiled weakly and firmly told me it wasn't "appropriate" for little girls to wear things like that.
The next day at the party, confused and a little heartbroken, I shared the story with my friend, and in the matter-of-fact way only kids can speak, she said, "It's probably because you're fat."
It wasn't exactly untrue.
I was never a skinny kid (see above), and I didn't come from a skinny family. While I imagine my mother did believe bikinis were "inappropriate" for my age, I suspect she was trying to shield me from teasing. Kids, as they say, can be cruel.
That day, I learned that my body was not a bikini body, and everywhere I turned there was a magazine article or talk show to back it up. I accepted it, internalized it, and spent my summers in "flattering" swim skirts and cover-ups.
It wasn't until this year, when I discovered body positivity (and started working with brave, kickass ladies), that I started working on my confidence and shedding the layers of unnecessary clothing.
Recently, I decided it was time to get my bikini body, aka I bought a bikini and put it on my body.
The only problem? I was scared shitless.
Before I blindly ordered a bikini online, I decided to give it a test run. I went to Torrid (my favorite plus-size retailer) to try a few pieces on.
This is me in my first-ever bikini.
I braced myself for self-depricating waves of disgust, but nothing came. Instead, I wanted to try on another bikini.
And another.
And instead of walking away feeling defeated, I ended up with options. Moreover, I actually liked myself in these suits — not future-10-pounds-lighter me, right-now me.
So on an 82 degree weather day in New York, I got ready to hit Rockaway Beach. In a two-piece. For the first time in my life.
The most miraculous thing happened when I got there: the world continued to turn.
No one's eyes bled out of their sockets. No babies cried in horror. I showed a sliver of my stomach in public, and was not jeered at or loudly mocked. I had a fabulous day in the sun and felt pretty good doing it.
While this isn't an itsy-bitsy bikini, and I frankly don't think I'd be ready to rock that just yet, it is the most skin I have ever shown in public, at the heaviest weight I've ever been. And I'm pretty fucking proud of it.
I can't tell you how great it feels to look forward to my next beach visit, rather than dread it.
Want your own bikini-body? Put on a bikini and see what happens. Disarming your fear is pretty damn wonderful.
