This year's swimsuit shopping shocked me!

Something new happened when I went shopping for a bathing suit this year. It was unexpected and shocking. 

First, I found several on the rack that I sincerely liked — and not because of the label language that goes something like this: "flattering on all figures" or "pattern that disguises tummies" or "perfect for post maternity (and moms who had babies 10 years ago and still can't get the weight off)."

 

So I stepped in the dressing room with an armful of suits and something new: optimism. Oh, two something news. I also brought an accomplice.

 

I pulled on a bathing suit top first. It tied around the neck and the midriff, with a mostly open back. There were four layers of ruffles down the front. It was black and white and bright pink with lots of polka dots. It was very happy and fun. So much so that I had taken two tops of similar styles with me into the dressing room. 

“Oooo, mom, I love it. It looks so good on you!” said my enthusiastic 11-year-old daughter after she secured the ties in the back.

Normally a suit like this would have specific “triggers” for self loathing: the low cut that might show off a mole I don’t like, the general wide exposure of the back that could reveal the folds of skin on my “fat back.” 

Those were the reject-worthy features I was specifically looking for, but here’s what was unexpected. I didn’t see them, the negative things. The mole. The rolls. Maybe they were there, maybe not. All I saw was a pretty phenomenal looking middle-age woman in a bathing suit that flattered her figure. 

“Wow,” I replied. “I love it, too! Well, I guess I’ll try on the others to see if I like any of them.”

Normally, that would be a bad idea. If you’ve ever shopped for a swimming suit, I’m pretty sure this is a golden rule. If you find one that you like — even the slightest bit — you stop trying on suits immediately and buy it. The odds of further swimming suit shopping success are stunted at best. To keep trying them on is an invitation for disappointment.

It had been two years since I graced the dressing room with a bathing suit. I typically shop at a large department store with a huge selection and a range of reasonable prices. I would not mind paying more for a suit that made me look more fit than I am. In the past, I might have even considered taking out a loan for one that could erase 20 years. 

I would drag a dozen suits illegally (six item limit and all….as if you really want to make the walk of shame to the discard rack that many times!) to the dressing room. What kind of lighting is this, I would wonder, as I pulled off my clothing and contemplated the frumpy, stretched and pocked thighs and belly appearing before me. 

Well, it must be a combination of the lighting and this cheap mirror, I would think, because there’s no way I really look like that. Do I???? 

So after the first 12 discards and the walk of shame, I would creep back into a different dressing room — the one in the back where the flickering fluorescent light is, a gamble that a shadow or six might improve things — my shoulders sagging a bit more than the time before. 

As I would suck in my stomach and fight with myself about the fact that I am now one size away from the plus sizes — how did that happen? — I would pray that this one would be THE ONE.

 

A match made in heaven. 

 

A God-ordained suit that would make me look like I didn’t just down a pantry of Doritos and glazed donuts washed down with a monster-size fountain soda.  (I don't really eat those things...I just have a figure that indicates that I do.)

Please, God, please! 

 

Make this torture end. 

 

I manage to get by most days with a decent self-respecting confidence, and this feeling is uncomfortable. I KNOW I am more valuable than the way I look in a bathing suit, but is it too much to ask for you to ordain a bathing suit for me that will make me feel good about myself while swimming, too? 

So here I am, two years later, loving one suit and trying on two more. 

The second one is tricky. It’s adorable — bright pink and polka dots — but it’s hard to tug on. It’s a size too small. It fits, but the fight of putting it on isn’t worth it. I set it aside. If they have it a size up, I know I’ll buy this one, too. 

And my daughter, she loves it! She’s gushing about not just the suits but how great they look on me. I could do this all day. This happiness and pleasure in a dressing room is unheard of...I think I heard the clerks discussing whether to have security on backup in case I was delusional, on the verge of breakdown and putting the whole store at risk.

It’s about this point I realize that I had not showered yet today. We worked at a garage sale all morning, and I had no makeup on. Can you believe it? I was shopping for a bathing suit with no makeup on, with hairy armpits. Unheard of! The giddy factor just raised two notches, and I could definitely hear murmurs of disbelief on the other side of the door.

I’m grabbing the third suit at this point. It’s floral print with a style that is reminiscent of the 1950s. I absolutely love this suit, so I’m praying God will make this a match, too! Why not? Things are going so well.

I pull up the straps of the one-piece, and my daughter is in love with it. I spin and look. Wow! I look like Marilyn Monroe. Curvy and carefree and cute as a button. 

I step out of the dressing room, my shoulders back, my neck stretched high, my chin up. I meet up with my husband and son. 

“You’re never going to believe this,” I say, still reeling from the shock myself. “but I love every suit I tried on. This never happens. So which one do you like?” 

I hold them up and he picks the pink polka dot. I go to the rack and grab the next size up. Unfortunately, it was mislabeled and I had to return it. I ended up getting the Marilyn Monroe number. I love how it makes me feel. 

I spend the next several days reflecting on this experience. What changed in two years? 

Initially, I attribute it to the fact that I had my daughter there, cheering me on, telling me how fabulous I looked in every single suit. I must admit, that was nice. I think I will bring her next time. She saw me the way I should have seen myself, and it was a good check and balance. I believe she helped me see past the self criticism, as I always choose my adjectives wisely around her when it comes to the way I see myself. 

Here’s the kicker, though. I was shopping at Wal-mart. I would normally never consider buying a bathing suit at Wal-mart. The dressing room was a mess. The lighting and mirror had to be way less flattering than anything I had ever been exposed to in a suit. 

Aside from her comments, I was giddy about how nice I looked in the suits. I think mostly what happened was a shift in my perspective — a transformation that began on the inside two years ago that made me look at my physical self in a whole new way. 

I cannot be absolutely sure, but I am fairly certain I am bigger and weigh more than I did two years ago. 

I’m learning to love myself — even without makeup. Even the stretch marks. The ones my husband has loved since they day they became part of me — somewhere in the sixth or seventh month of my second pregnancy. Badges of honor, he called them. Rewards for being able to be the mother of my son, the miracle conception. Well worth it to wear them the rest of this life. 

Easy for him to say. 

Turns out it was easy for me to say, too, but simply harder to believe. My baby will turn 10 this summer, and I can FINALLY just now in this moment at age 40 agree that I love them when I look at them. It’s true…I LOVE my stretch marks. 

It’s funny when I mentioned them the other day, my husband insisted I didn’t have any. He applauded them 10 years ago and forgot them in the time that’s lapsed since. He doesn’t see them anymore. Or at least he doesn’t label them. They are simply a part of me like any other part. 

Why do we loathe a process of change that is God-ordained. My physical beauty is SUPPOSED to fade — or droop, depending on your perspective. Stretch marks, spider veins, wrinkles, grey hair…they are all part of life and aging. If God created us, and this is natural aging, then it is GOOD! Why on earth would we ever presume to criticize the work of a holy, loving God?

What is even better than how I look in this moment is the transformation of realizing the truth in this. What I love most about my swimming suit experience isn't that I loved what I saw, it's that I loved what I FELT. The emotional part was exhilarating!

2 Corinthians 4:16 says “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.” 

Praise be to God for the transformation that is the renewal of my inner self who sees what God sees: True beauty!