“Complete honesty?” Andy asked, smooshed beside me in the closet.

“Yup.”

“I can’t wait until the whole diaper bottom thing is done.”

“Oh honey. This?” I said gesturing to my general abdomen and vagina area. “This has nothing to do with you.”

High Waist Bikini

This was the summer I took back the bikini.

I’ve been a bikini wearer for a few years now, but this year it was different. For starters, the bottoms fit way tighter, and that could have destroyed me. It could have laid me out in tears and kept me hidden inside being horrible to myself. But it didn’t. The spot light has been a little bit hotter, too,  and the comments a little bit harsher. That could have shut me up and made me scared to leave a mark. But it didn’t.

This year these high waisted bikini bottoms were mine, and it was a summer of I don’t give a fuck sexy. Because sometimes, bitches got stuff to do, and it’s way easier to do it looking hot like the Marilyn Monroe’s and Annette Funicello’s before us.

I remember when I was little, watching my mom pump gas wearing only a one piece bathingsuit and New Balance tennis shoes. I was mortified for her and for me. But it was that level of bad-assery that I channeled when I stood in line in my bathing suit at the snack cart at the water park. I don’t need you sarong. I’ve accepted that not every moment is a posed photograph. I will make exaggerated faces and have double chins and a dimpled thighs and chubby knees, and I will eat nachos and drip cheese down my arm.

I am who I dress for.

I am who I feel sexy for.

I am who I jump into water for.

You can watch me do these things and get turned on or decide to jump in beside me, but I don’t need that to happen to feel beautiful. That’s just all bonus.

It’s a freeing thing to not wear clothes for anyone but yourself. It feels amazing to not worry about being judged by the other women at the pool or hinging how much fun I have by how many men look at me like they want to have sex with me.

You don’t have to make me feel sexy, guys. I got this all on my own, and I’ll definitely be having sex, anyway, in spite of my parachute sized diaper bottoms…. maybe even because of them.

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