30 Years to a Bikini

(Featured photo courtesy of Target and a gorgeous curvy model!)

I’m up bright and early to share a story of empowerment that I hope inspires a few of you, but I need to walk backwards a bit first.

In May, I had what I like to call a full-fledged nervous breakdown. While my psychiatrist won’t allow me to call it that – “Amy, that isn’t even an actual medical term. Nobody calls it a nervous breakdown anymore!” – I refuse to NOT call it that because to me, despite how difficult the past year has been, I like to think that my nervous breakdown looked more like the kind that a 50’s housewife would have. I’m wearing pearls and a pencil skirt. I’m drinking a martini at 3 in the afternoon. I “break down.” I take some time to recover and everything is okay.

It totally didn’t work that way, btw. The day I had my breakdown, I was wearing dirty yoga pants, hadn’t showered in a few days, had just come home from a yoga and writing retreat. In the weeks and months prior, I had been taking every self care measure I could think of – meditation, yoga, therapy, medication, time with good friends, focused on getting enough sleep, ate more plants and less junk – you name it. No matter what I did to care for myself, in early May, I crashed. And I crashed hard.

I’ll write more about that later, because I think it’s important to share our difficult times as life isn’t all one heavily edited Instagram pic of the “perfect” day, but I am at least sharing that set up to let you know that as of this beautiful Friday the 13th morning, I’m okay.

I’m really, really okay.

During my recovery time, I made a last-minute decision to scoop up my 16 year-old for a quick beach trip before school started. At 10pm the night before our early morning flight,     we made the obligatory trip to Target for sunscreen and some basics, but 2 minutes into the trip, we were lured into the swimsuit department, where ER, who is 6 feet tall and could wear a reusable grocery bag for a swimsuit and look amazing, scoured the racks for bikini tops and bottoms while I scrolled through Facebook on my phone and rolled my eyes and sighed.

On the wall in the swimsuit department was a lovely plus-sized model rocking a bikini, similar to the picture above with the gorgeous curvy gal in the hat. I nodded my approval and waited on my beanpole to make her final choices when she said, “Mom, how long has it been since you wore a bikini?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” I said. “I’m guessing at least 30 years? I mean, even when I was bone thin I didn’t really like myself in a bikini. I’m a one-piece girl.”

“You need to try one on,” ER said, grabbing a navy high-waisted bottom.

Given that we were in Target, and several years ago I pledged not to shop at fast fashion stores, I hesitated. I also hesitated because I still haven’t lost the baby weight, and my stomach is only my friend when I’m filling it with risotto or some variation thereof.

“Fine,” I said. “We only live once, right?”

The sweet Target dressing room attendant, fully defeated by the giant piles of discarded clothes on her counter, allowed us to enter the family dressing room with about 78 tops and bottoms ranging from size 2 to it’s totally not your business. The first suit I tried on was a red almost sports bra top with the navy high-waisted bottoms.

“I don’t actually hate this!” I said, posing in the mirror, somewhat pleased with myself.

“Mom, you look amazing,” ER said. “You have to get this!”

At checkout, the clerk scanned our sunscreen, make-up wipes, big cheap but oddly fabulous vacation sunglasses, and $419 worth of impulse buys, and a plus-sized bikini.

“I’m going to wear a bikini for the first time in my adult life!” I told the surly teen clerk.

“Cool,” she said, fully unflapped.

Just weeks prior, the extraordinarily talented Lizzo was making headlines with her bold and unapologetic music and message of body positivity. I’m a fairly faithful watcher of the NPR Tiny Desk concerts, and happened on to Lizzo’s taping and sort of lost my mind. She was fabulously raw, brave, powerful, and her voice! Holy moly! I added a bunch of her songs to my iTunes or Apple Music or whatever we’re calling it this week. I went hoarse singing along to “I’m Crying Cuz I Love You.” I made up 46 year old white lady dance moves to “Juice.” I felt like I should only listen to “Lingerie” in the privacy of my own room, blushing at her bold lyrics.

At our hotel, I put on the bikini. I slathered on more sunscreen that I’ve worn in ages – laughing about how much real estate my stomach takes up on my middle-aged body. I put on my favorite pair of fancy sunglasses and a kimono-turned-coverup.

At the pool, two women I would normally label “skinny minis” sat in the shallow area of the pool, sipping on cocktails. Their male companions were nearby, engaged in their own conversation. Suddenly, middle school Amy entered the scene, trying to hide behind ER while we spread out our towels on lounges and settled in.

I can’t do this, I thought. What was I thinking?! How is it going to feel when these women start laughing or whispering about this big lady in a Target bikini?

Since I try to set a good example and didn’t want to have a meltdown in front of my daughter, I took a big gulp of my vodka grapefruit, gathered up some courage, and dropped the kimono.

Nobody pointed. Nobody laughed. If they whispered, I didn’t hear them.

I settled into the new me. ER and I talked about school, about her thoughts on college, on one of my old boyfriends who didn’t treat me well, and how to avoid schmucks like that. We hopped out of the pool for some sun, and I sent Tim this picture. Actually, I think I sent it to a lot of people. It was a big day for this big gal.

Speaking of big gals, Lizzo is giving so many of us life. Two days after I had my nervous breakdown, she appeared on a taping of a radio segment that you HAVE TO watch in its entirely where she said, “Once you are full of the self love that you have and you’re not searching for that anywhere else, everything that’s yours will be attracted to you.”

Preach, it sister!

Guys and gals, I’m going to give you a challenge: Take the electric guitar lesson. Register for the trapeze class. Sign up for the dating app. If I’ve learned anything in the past year – where I hit one of the lowest of low spots of my entire life – it’s that as far as we know, we get one shot here.

Buy the damned bikini!