I mentioned that we are on vacation... at the beach. All the ladies can pretty quickly do the math to figure out what that means... bathing suits, as in wearing one in front of lots and lots of people, but even worse than that it also means, shopping for one.
Fluorescent lights and three-way mirrors. Hell.
I have put off shopping for a suit because I currently am enjoying my body, for the way it moves, for how it feels, and for what it does for me every day, and I was exceedingly hesitant to threaten that appreciation. I knew full-well that an afternoon of trying on too tight, unflattering suits might affect my feelings towards myself, and a week of beach time, amidst boob jobs and southern beauties, was not going to help a self image made fragile by traumatic swimsuit try-ons. Nor would it be the time for some kind of diet or exercise.
So what to do?
I brought Nathan with me.
He loves me. But even better for this situation, his vision holds the most flattering view of my curves. He doesn't see cellulite or improperly placed bulges, he sees loveliness.
We picked out options and sizes, and I tried them on with my back to the mirror and Nathan's body blocking my front view. I lifted my legs, bent my knees, and twisted side to side with each, trying to get a feel for how I would feel in the suit. And I closed my eyes when Nathan moved to get a sense of how the suit actually looked. I occasionally opened my eyes a bit, not to see my reflection in the mirror, but to see my reflection through his deep, honey-brown eyes.
And I was beautiful.
It was the most satisfying, loving, and gentle-on-my-soul, shopping trip of my life.