B.S.D- Bathing Suit Depression
So last night was my annual evening of self-induced depression, also known as the night I try on all my bathing suits for the first time of the spring. This event is immediately followed by heavy drinking.
For some reason, I continue to exist under the illusion that if I keep trying on my bikini from college, that I will magically have my figure from sophomore year. Ah, sophomore year....size 5 and starvation, what a combo. Yes back then I could wear just about anything, from short shorts to tube tops, my midriff exposed whenever it was appropriate, and often when it wasn't. Of course, I was an exercising lunatic who logged every calorie she consumed in a notebook of her obsession...all I can say is, I'm lucky my friends still speak to me, crazy as I was.
Anyhoo, I no longer suffer from a need to deprive myself in the name of skinniness, in fact, skinniness and I, we had a falling out. And though I have been much happier ever since, I have not had as close of a relationship with bathing suits either. Of course, I don't live near a beach or pool, so they don't often come into play. Nevertheless, I still feel the need every spring to drag the bathing suit box out from under my bed, and torment myself with my flabby thighs in a full-length mirror. Apparently last year I broke down and bought full-coverage bottoms, a fact which makes me very sad, even while saving me from the dreaded muffin top.
The part I can't figure out is how I can look just fine in my clothes, giving off the illusion that I've maintained my weight over the winter, and then beneath the fabric I find things have shifted. Damn that stretch denim - it lies! Yes, so I'm prepared to prance about modeling my preserved physique for Sweetpotato and then...well, it looks like I'll be investing in sarongs this summer.
I think something happens after college, things just get lumpy and elasticity dissipates. Try as you might, your 19-year-old ass will never be seen again and all those pictures of you and your girlfriends on the beach, well those are the last of their kind. During a moment of insanity last year I allowed myself to be photographed in a bathing suit - that picture was burned immediately upon development.
Sweetpotato and I are venturing out on a boat this weekend, so I'm hoping that with a little sun and a lot of champagne, I'll forget all about the dimples showing on the backs of my thighs- to be sure, it's a gallon-jug weekend for the Mo-Mos!
For some reason, I continue to exist under the illusion that if I keep trying on my bikini from college, that I will magically have my figure from sophomore year. Ah, sophomore year....size 5 and starvation, what a combo. Yes back then I could wear just about anything, from short shorts to tube tops, my midriff exposed whenever it was appropriate, and often when it wasn't. Of course, I was an exercising lunatic who logged every calorie she consumed in a notebook of her obsession...all I can say is, I'm lucky my friends still speak to me, crazy as I was.
Anyhoo, I no longer suffer from a need to deprive myself in the name of skinniness, in fact, skinniness and I, we had a falling out. And though I have been much happier ever since, I have not had as close of a relationship with bathing suits either. Of course, I don't live near a beach or pool, so they don't often come into play. Nevertheless, I still feel the need every spring to drag the bathing suit box out from under my bed, and torment myself with my flabby thighs in a full-length mirror. Apparently last year I broke down and bought full-coverage bottoms, a fact which makes me very sad, even while saving me from the dreaded muffin top.
The part I can't figure out is how I can look just fine in my clothes, giving off the illusion that I've maintained my weight over the winter, and then beneath the fabric I find things have shifted. Damn that stretch denim - it lies! Yes, so I'm prepared to prance about modeling my preserved physique for Sweetpotato and then...well, it looks like I'll be investing in sarongs this summer.
I think something happens after college, things just get lumpy and elasticity dissipates. Try as you might, your 19-year-old ass will never be seen again and all those pictures of you and your girlfriends on the beach, well those are the last of their kind. During a moment of insanity last year I allowed myself to be photographed in a bathing suit - that picture was burned immediately upon development.
Sweetpotato and I are venturing out on a boat this weekend, so I'm hoping that with a little sun and a lot of champagne, I'll forget all about the dimples showing on the backs of my thighs- to be sure, it's a gallon-jug weekend for the Mo-Mos!
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