So, last night I decided to defy negativity and went shopping for a swimsuit anyway. After 4 different stores with a combined total of maybe twelve swimsuits between them (come on people, I can't be the only person who needs a swimsuit in September, it's frickin' San Diego, it's 90 degrees outside) I end up at Target. At this point, I'm officially not having fun. I tried one a couple of suits, each more depressing and matronly than the last. Finally I try on the last on in the pile, a black 'slimming' suit with an 'eye-diverting stomach detailing' and built in bra. The swimwear equivilant of an orthopedic shoe. I looked in the mirror and considered using the buckle on the 'eye-diverting stomach detail' to hack through my wrists. I said, "That's it." And I charged out of the dressing room and picked up the most unsensible suit on the rack. White tankini, with bright pink hibiscus flowers and green stems. I said, "I don't care if white makes my ass look like the size of the state of New Jersey, I don't care if the print brings the eye right to my hips, and I don't care if the neckline doesn't best enhance my 'assets'. I may not look like a supermodel, but damn it, I look damn good enough! And I want a pretty swimsuit, so a pretty swimsuit I shall have!" I think this tirade startled my boyfriend a bit, but he had the presense of mind to give me a hug and not say anything.
So I have a new swimsuit. Halfway home I remembered that white tends to go sheer when wet, so I may have a problem on my hands. But screw it, I've done worrying.