she's writing a novel

a lot of her writing tends to be tongue-in-cheek. this is because she grew up in an evangelical tradition which was more concerned about where else she might be putting her tongue.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

She wore an...

Today, I bought a bikini.

Swimsuit shopping is horrifying. If you gave me the option of trying on bikinis, or having a gynecological exam, I would jump on the latter.

When I finally went to the gyno for the first time, I could not for the life of me figure out what everyone had been bitching about. You have your breasts fondled. Then you strip naked, spread your legs, and the gyno fingers you with a latex-gloved hand. To be honest, a visit to the gyno ranks higher than some of my sexual experiences. I mean, at least at the gyno you're guarunteed a little foreplay.

Ah, but trying on bikinis. Hello, cellulite. Hello, strange skin discoloration which I might have remained ignorant of indefinately were it not for the flattering flourescent bulbs in this dressing room. Hello, inadequately-sized breasts. Hello, retained water. Hello, fact that I haven't had a good shit in three weeks. Hello, sagging ass. Did I already greet thee cellulite? Hello, hello.

It's an honest moment: My body, a bikini, and a mirror. I used to psyche myself up with an image of what I would see when I finally squeezed into the thing and opened my eyes. But I was usually setting myself up for failure, because the image in my mind was always from some magazine or another. But today, after a year of running 25 miles a week (and putting the ice cream down and stepping away from the ice cream), I opened my eyes and my first thought was not bad.

This is the sort of breakthrough moment that makes me wish I had a therapist to run to. I opened my eyes, I saw myself in a bikini, and I didn't cry.

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