Suiting Up

Act I

The scene: My bedroom, last week. 20 weeks post-partum. Trying on ALL my old swimsuits, in preparation for our Hawaii trip (for some reason I never seem to throw old suits away).

I try my lone one-piece. Not too bad. Honestly, a lot better than I expected (and wow -- I finally fill out the top -- baby-bearing has its privileges!).

On to the tankini (very modest, full coverage two-piece). Okay... this is not that bad either... do I dare? Do I really?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath and grab the bikini. My flat tummy used to be one of my better features. Open one eye, then the other. Dare to let out the breath. It's... workable. Definitely looking a little, well, stretched -- but that's to be expected. Couple of stretch marks on my sides. Feeling pretty good, actually!

Relieved, I sit down on the side of the bed. Oh, God. Flabby skin settles around the top of the bikini bottom -- where did it all come from? Stretch marks shimmer up at me. The faint-but-not-gone linea negra cuts the jelly roll into two jiggly half-tummies.

The lesson: if you must wear a bikini after childbirth... NEVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, SIT DOWN!

Act II

Scene: The swimsuit store, the mall, today. Desperately trying on every full-coverage one-piece in stock (and it's November on the East Coast, so the pickings are slim... so to speak).

The boobies still look great -- HUGE, I must admit. Unfortunately, I'd use the same word to describe my derriere. And it does not look so great. Hanging low. I curse the misogynist who created the three-panel dressing-room mirror. Fluorescent lights to boot -- Lord have mercy.

I try on my old size 8... then 10s... I end up buying a size 12 one-piece, plenty of fabric. It's brown. It's safe. It's invisible, actually.

But I think I'm going to bring the bikini too... just in case I get up the courage... or in case I go somewhere where I'm guaranteed not to have to sit down.