Fear, Manta Rays, and a Bathing Suit

A journey from fear to fun in a one-piece

Like many women my age—and honestly, women in general—I have a fear of a particular article of clothing in my closet: the bathing suit.

Last month I went on vacation to the Caribbean. A vacation that involved pools, snorkeling, diving with manta rays, and—unfortunately—a bathing suit.

I do own one or two, though I can’t remember when I bought them. Sometime before COVID, which means it’s safe to assume six or seven years ago. I even have access to a heated pool in my neighborhood and one at the gym, but I haven’t used either since my kids reached double digits.

I usually tell people I don’t swim because I don’t want to ruin my hair color. And while that’s a valid excuse, it’s not the whole truth—I could always wear a swim cap. The real reason is simple: I don’t like being in a bathing suit.

We were taught, sadly, that only skinny women—or perfectly toned women—should wear bathing suits in public. I’m five-foot-nothing, curvy, in my late fifties, and I’ve had three kids.

Confidence in my body has never been my strong suit (pun intended). But as I get closer to sixty, something has shifted. I’ve reached the point where I truly don’t care about the “silly” things anymore—how I look or what other people think.

So I went snorkeling. I swam with manta rays. I wore the bathing suit. And I enjoyed every single moment.

Did I look like a Victoria’s Secret model? No.
I looked like a happy, confident, mature woman who really doesn’t give a shit.

So wear the bathing suit. Wear the shorts.
And be happy exactly the way you are.