The Completely Uneventful Bikini Event

How today's impossible quietly becomes tomorrow's normal

Photo by liz zanella on Unsplash

No one at the pool knew me. My daughters were at camp. My husband was back at the AirBnB. I was never going to see any of these people ever again.

In fact, the other people at the adults-only pool were mostly two decades older. They were much more interested in chatting with each other than paying attention to me.

But I was still a little nervous about pulling my cover-up over my head. The bikini bottom wasn't a thong, but skimpy in a different way. It was a string bikini, and while my ass was covered, my lower belly wasn't. That's always been the part of me I instinctively try to hide.

Show off my ass-cheeks to the world? Apparently, yes.

But my lower belly in a string bikini? Twist my arm. Hard.

Which got me thinking about how the goalposts keep moving. For most of my adult life, the idea of wearing a thong bikini in public was outrageous. I couldn’t possibly. But now? I’ve done it multiple times.

In fact, when I was on a cruise in June with a friend, my thong bikini felt like my “most comfortable” bathing suit.

So that’s how I ended up at a pool in a string bikini, feeling not at all confident but feeling like I should be.

The bikini was expensive. I had been lured in by an Instagram ad promising the top was going to be a unicorn: supportive enough for my larger chest while still being cute. And despite the logistical challenge of a bikini top that looks like a bikini but is structured like an over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder, it ended up being the bottom that gave me pause. The first one I tried just didn't feel right. So I exchanged it for the string bikini, which, while a bit more skimpy, was actually more comfortable. And it was black-and-white gingham, which made it just so very cute.

So maybe it was that very specific variety of “girl math”: I spent way more on this bikini than I normally would, so damn it, I was going to wear the thing.

I was committed to the bikini.

And it was fine. Nothing happened. I reclined in a lounger and read a book for work.

Then I decided to cool off in the pool. I even brought my hardcover book with me, holding it in front of my face as I wandered around the pool like Belle in Beauty and the Beast, completely oblivious to the townspeople singing about her.

(No one sang about me... that I noticed.)

It was a completely uneventful bikini event.

What had seemed like such a big deal to me wasn’t even on anyone else’s radar.

At some point, I realized that if anyone noticed me at all, it probably wasn’t because of my string bikini bottom. It was because I was wearing a big floppy hat and wandering around the pool with a hardcover book held up in front of my face.

Tip: If you’re nervous about your bathing suit, wear a giant, floppy hat. No one will notice the suit.

People usually use the phrase “the goalposts keep moving” as a negative. And maybe sometimes it is.

But in this instance, it feels right.

I used to assume that confidence was all or nothing. You either had it, or you didn’t.

But confidence isn’t a finish line. It’s a little more here, a little more there. The things that once felt impossible slowly become ordinary. And instead of arriving at some magical place where I never feel insecure again, I find myself standing at the edge of a new comfort zone, one that would’ve felt completely out of reach just a few years ago.

And I wouldn’t even say I’ve unlocked that level of string bikini confidence yet. If I think about it too long, I can still talk myself out of it.

But that afternoon in Williamsburg, I eventually became more focused on the book I was reading and my Disney princess aesthetic.

I was distracted by... just living my life.

I’m writing this from the beach, on vacation with friends and our families. I didn’t pack the black-and-white gingham bikini—not because I’m opposed to wearing a bikini on this trip, but because I knew I’d be spending at least a little time chasing kids on the sand, and I didn’t need a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.

But I did pack some other bikinis. In fact, one style (which I own in two colors) is so comfortable that I find myself walking around without a cover-up.

A few years ago, I couldn’t imagine walking around in any bikini without a cover-up.

Now I do it without really thinking about it.

Which makes me wonder what feels impossible today will someday become my new normal.