Have you ever worn a wetsuit?
If you have, you know that putting it on and taking it off is the anti-thesis of chic.
Firstly, it’s nothing like a Gilles Bensimon photoshoot. (And I definitely don’t look like Gisele!)
It’s more like when you rediscover those jeans from college and try to put them on. (“Just suck in!!”)(Not pretty.) You’re basically a human sausage, trying to squeeze your body into a casing two sizes too small.
Not falling off my board, or screaming as a fleet of cool surfers cruise by; it’s squishing my behind through the unforgiving confines of a seal costume that makes me the most anxious. It, quite literally, takes my breath away (since, in it, I can barely breathe, it’s so tight).
And taking it off? Who knows if your bikini will stay on, or maybe your wetsuit will drag your top or bottoms off to reveal a butt cheek or a little more than sideboob.
It forces you to get REAL about your body. But also be more accepting of it. It makes me want stronger arms, to paddle harder with, and it’s teaching me how to strip bare in terms of beauty.
Have you ever found yourself in that position, where you’ve had to completely let go? Just be faced with the least attractive version of yourself – and love her as she is?