Swimsuit Issues [Resolved]

Cue the drumroll . . . I bought a swimsuit! Given the nature of my triumph, I thought it was something that just had to be shared, even though it's been about a month since it happened. Now, some of you—men, in particular—will not appreciate the magnitude of this accomplishment. But there are others of you that find yourselves shocked and awed that such a thing could happen. It did.

This is especially big for me because I honestly don't remember the last time I bought a new swimsuit. In fact, I think the last time I wore an actual swimsuit, I was young enough that the idea of wearing hand-me-down swimwear didn't bother me. Yeah, it's been awhile—mainly for two reasons.

1. I refuse to pay full price for apparel that's half off. (See what I did? It was punny!)

Swimwear is EXPENSIVE. Scratch that. Swimwear that I would actually wear is expensive. I have waited, hoping to snag a great deal off the clearance rack, but I seem to be in one of the most common swimsuit wearing sizes. It's all too big, too small, or not enough fabric to cover what I want covered—which brings me to my next issue.

2. Typical swimwear makes me uncomfortable.

I know there are women in the world that enjoy looking great in a bikini. I am not one of them. (I'm not sure if that means that A. I don't look great in a bikini, B. I look great, but don't enjoy it, or C. some combination of the two.) At any rate, I've always been a little more concerned with covering up than most. This is the reason I swam in gym shorts and a T-shirt for about five years following puberty. It's also the reason that at the end of the gym short dynasty, my mom and I set off across the internet to find a swimsuit in which I would feel comfortable. Our quest culminated in the purchase of a pattern and the making of the swimsuit you see before you now.

In addition to fulfilling many Personal Progress project requirements, my swimsuit proved to be quite the conversation starter as many of my friends commented on how neat it was that I made my own swimsuit. Aside from standing out so much, I was comfortable while swimming.

Unfortunately, my suit started to show signs of wear. And much as I wanted to wear it forever, no swimsuit is modest after the chlorine has killed the elastic in the bottoms and they start to fall off. So, I recommenced my search for a swimsuit.

I braved heat, full-length mirrors, and awful fluorescent dressing room lights to find a suit. After an unsuccessful year last year, I decided to take a break. This worked because I don't swim much under normal circumstances, let alone in a winter when I'm pregnant. (Find a maternity swimsuit I feel good in? Now, there's the impossible dream for you!) Upon a chance encounter, I finally found a suit I liked. You can see it below.

This journey has prompted some thoughts about modesty. Let me relate an unfortunate incident that acted as a catalyst for such considerations.

On a quick run to Target, I decided to try on a swimsuit. Seeing that many two-piecers [tankinis]

were more modest than the one-piecers, I selected a top and bottom I liked and went to try them on. Since we were in a hurry, I left my strappy sandal heels on (we were down for a temple trip) to save time. When I came out to see what Alex thought, he got a funny look on his face and said “NO.” I went back to change and we later discussed what was wrong. I thought it was all about the top and maybe it was too low cut. He said, “I didn't even notice the top. With the short skirt and heels you looked like . . .” and his voiced died out. “Like what?” I asked. “Like,” he took a deep breath and paused again, “like a . . . hooker.”

I almost died laughing.

After admitting that trying on swimsuits with heels on was a bad idea and promising I wouldn't do it again, he said a few other things.

“I just didn't want anyone else to see you like that. For the first time ever, I didn't want to like, show you off to people. I wanted to tell you to go back in the dressing room before anyone else saw you.”

“If [someone else] wore it, I wouldn't have thought it was immodest. But on you . . .”

“You looked uncomfortable, so I felt uncomfortable for you.”

So, what about modesty? You know, I'm not sure, but I think that it has a certain amount to do with what makes us comfortable. Regardless of how much skin I show or how tight something is, if I don't feel good about wearing it, maybe it's not modest.

Does my transition from a gym shorts/T-shirt combo to my current swimsuit mean that I'm “less modest”? I don't think so. I think it's me being more comfortable with my body. Covering up is a good thing. I still cover up more than is typical. However, my reasons have changed. I no longer feel like I have to cover every flaw I may have. Modesty has been a hot button issue lately, and I think it is critical to consider why we are dressing modestly. And in teaching modesty, I think it's important to underscore that if we are seeking to cover our flaws with clothing, that's not a good reason.

When we were younger, I had a sister (Okay, so I still have a sister, but the story happened when we were younger) who wouldn't wear anything that showed a mole just below her collarbone. This proved frustrating for my mom and at one point she got impatient and told her “So, I know you want to be modest. That's a good thing, but your mole is not some sacred part of your body that can't be shown. YOU CAN WEAR THINGS THAT SHOW YOUR MOLE, AND IT'S OKAY.” This sister occasionally wears things that show her mole now. (When she's not wearing gym shorts and T-shirts.)

I don't agree with the popular “show that you are empowered by showing off your body” movement, but I also don't think that modesty should be a vehicle for shame in the way we look. In fact, I believe that modesty for the sake of covering our imperfections is detrimental to the cause of modesty. My body is a gift from God and I want to show my love for Him by respecting my body. This means I cover it not out of embarrassment, but because it's special gift. A gift made greater by I actually am and what I do with my body. To tell myself and others the reason that I dress the way I do is to cover the way my skin droops in this or that place distracts from the true beauty of that message.

I thought about posting pictures of me in my new swimsuit to prove how empowered I am now, but decided not to broadcast my hot body (*Snort!*) across the internet. If you want to see me in my swimsuit, you'll have to invite me to go swimming with you sometime.