In about a month me and my bits and bumps are hitting the beach again. In a tankini, without additional cover ups. That is neither good nor bad. Neither brave nor a display of lack of style. It just is the way I prefer to be on the beach. A minimum of wet fabric sticking to me. Feeling the breeze on my skin.
I’ve done the pareos and the tunics in the past. It started that first
vacation after discovering I had lipedema and still had to come to terms with
the fact that, in my case, it was no such thing as ‘baby weight’ which could
still be melted off somehow. Also, someone was kind enough to whisper into my
ear that I should really look into cover up options (not my spouse!). It landed
on fertile soil, being terribly insecure and frustrated because of my altered
mirror image.
That trip I brought two tunics and two pareos. In the end I wore them only
a few times. Towards the end of the trip I would only slip something on when
someone wanted to take my picture. Otherwise I found the cover up strategy a
waste of time and energy. It was hot. It didn’t fix that awkward moment when
you need to take it off to swim and walk to the water in nothing but a bathing
costume. You could decide to keep all sorts of clothing items on in the water,
but I found it uncomfortable. Especially when exiting the water and having all
that heavy, wet fabric sticking to me. The moment I realized I was crossing the
beach several times a day with exposed legs, just to get in and out of the
water, I really couldn’t be bothered anymore.
That was me being practical. I was still fussing and constantly checking
what angle I displayed the least cellulite. Along came this fab local lady, at
least 4 sizes bigger than me, rocking a pair of hot pants on the beach. She was
having fun. She was not only confident, she was in her element. That was the
last drop. To me, she was doing something right and I was definitely doing
something wrong. I let go of most of the stress and self-consciousness right
then and there.
I can really enjoy the moment now, even in a bathing suit, completely
forgetting what I look like. In my mind I’m thinner anyway. That bubble bursts
quite violently when I see myself back in pictures, of course. That’s still an issue.
I still haven’t found a way around that, or rather how to push through that, even though a decade has passed since my
diagnosis.
There’s also always that awkward first vacation day. That’s when I’m
really self-conscious. Every single time I need to take the hurdle big time on
the first day. The second day is better and by the third day I’m good. It’s my
vacation, too. I’m entitled to enjoy myself just as much as the next person.
I love the ocean. I walk around the beach with the lines of my snorkeling
mask pressed into my face and a dumb grin. Or I sift through the sand looking
for shells or fossils. Let’s not forget swimming. It’s the one place where
moving doesn’t hurt, my weight doesn’t hinder me and where I can move freely.
If I swim al lot, I can get away with not wearing compression during the day,
even when it’s hot.
The ocean makes me feel free. To the point I actually feel comfortable
to engage in small talk with complete strangers. There’s no judgement. The
snorkeling gear is leading, tall tales you can tell about what you saw in the
water, there or elsewhere, and the fun and excitement that comes with that. Or
comparing finds on a fossil-ridden beach. Just as long as I’m experiencing that
beach-vibe, everything is easier, even though my legs and arms are on display. Not
to mention that I tan in three different shades: not (legs, upper arms),
slightly (face and lower arms) and a lot (neck and back).
A lot of it is attitude, positive energy and making up your own style
rules. Unfortunately, so far my portable comfort zone only deploys on vacation.
It would be nice to find a way to take that vacation vibe and mental freedom
home with me, to enjoy it 365 days a year. I’ve still not found an answer to
that, but I stand by it: I have a beach body, just like everybody else. All it
takes it taking your body to the beach, and voilà.