“As I started to reveal myself as a woman, I started to conceal myself as a human. The idea of a swimsuit was nightmare material.”
Sure, I was still a loudmouth who craved attention, and I loved wearing the most outrageous
Then one hot summer day in 2020 I got a text message from a friend inviting me to the beach with her roommates. In front of my mirror, I managed to put together a pretty cute outfit that showed just enough skin for me to be comfortable. I wore a black bralette with a sleeveless denim vest and lightweight orange mini skirt over the same pair of yoga shorts I would usually discreetly wear for modesty reasons. It felt as beach-y as I could be for someone who didn’t own a swimsuit, and I felt good.
I didn’t make it all the way — my bralette remained dry, and only the end of my long, wavy hair got to touch the water. But it felt like a small victory. A new accomplishment to add to my resume. I almost wished someone would have given me a medal by the time I came back to the beach. In my little, shaky heart, I felt fireworks. It wasn’t much, but it still felt like a lot.
I was again invited to spend a day by a lake with some girls, and as excited as I was about the occasion, I still knew that I had little time to find a swim alternative. No matter how much I tried to resist helping Jeff Bezos, I only found what I was looking for on Amazon.It was a one-piece, ruby red bathing suit, with the built-in skirt I wanted from the start, from some random manufacturer without so much as a website to show for it.