How swimming changed my body image

Swimsuit.

There's a word that makes plenty of women shudder. I used to get really embarrassed at the slightest mention of that word, even though in my mind, a prototypical swimsuit was a one-piece covered by a tank top and shorts, or some other super-modest combination of clothes worn into the swimming pool. Still, something about wearing a swimsuit gave me this gut-wrenching feeling, this fear of some horrifying experience like getting on the diving board and making someone barf in the pool at the sight of my body. (K, so maybe that's a little overly dramatic, but you get the idea--I, like many people, love to swim, but dread the attire.)

Last year, I decided that would change for me. I still wanted to be modest, but I didn't want to feel like I had to jump into the pool fully-clothed in order to feel comfortable. Specifically, I set a goal that I would be able to feel good about myself without wearing shorts over my swimsuit.

Now, the underlying message to myself when I set that goal was that I wanted to get hotlegs. I wanted to exercise a lot and lose some weight. I wanted to end up with really nice, muscular thighs and fabulous calves. I wanted to zap any cellulite that I had so that I could essentially have legs like a volleyball player (even if they were doomed to eternal pastiness). I was going on a lot of bike rides, and I thought that after several months of doing that consistently, I could afford to go to the pool without wearing shorts.

Usually, when I shopped for swimsuits, I'd buy a patterned top and plain bottoms, since I was just going to cover the bottoms up with shorts anyway. At the beginning of last summer, though, I bought one with a plain top and patterned bottoms. After all, if I was going to be showing the bottoms off later on, they might as well be cute, right?

Well, as fate would have it, the first day I was going to go swimming that season, my other swimsuit decided it was done working for me. It no longer fit right, the ties were falling apart, and it was just not going to cooperate. I was left with no choice but to go to the pool in my new swimsuit. Since it was supposed to be my no-shorts swimsuit, I hadn't bought any shorts that matched it, so I just didn't wear shorts that day. It was no monumental decision; I just thought that I'd rather be noticeably chunky--yet fashionable--than to have my chunks disguised by clashing pieces of frump.

That day was really empowering for me. My swimsuit still fit me well, and it still covered enough of me to keep me feeling modest, but I was probably more comfortable that day than any day from my teenage years when I'd jumped into the pool wearing basketball shorts and a tshirt for comfort. No longer did I have to worry about my shorts falling off and showing my swimsuit (because heaven forbid I go swimming in a swimsuit) or having my clothes stick to me in really unattractive ways when I got out of the pool.  We had a grand old time, my swimsuit and me, just enjoying the sun and the water and the fact that I have a body. And yeah, I have more of a body than some women do, but it is still a body--a gift from God--and it can do some amazing things. I mean, just when it's at the pool, it can swim, jump, cannonball, flip, do handstands, have underwater tea parties, make cool hairstyles, catch frisbees, and throw things, and it's learning how to dive. And let's not forget how awesome my body is at floating.

So yeah, my thighs touch. Yeah, they jiggle when I walk. Yeah, I inherited enormous--but not necessarily muscular--calves from my grandma. But I am happy. I am fairly healthy. My body is beautiful, and I have nothing to be ashamed of.