I turned 56 and wore a bikini all in one week, and the world didn’t end. I know that’s a lot to take in so I will give you a moment to reflect on that statement.
I was not keen on my upcoming birthday, but the other choice was much more final. Fifty-six seems so close to 60, and 60 seems old. Well, except now it doesn’t because I am only four years away from it. My birthday happened to be during the same week David Bowie and Glen Frey of the Eagles died, and they were only in their 60s, so I got over the, ‘Oh I am so old!’ pity party pretty quickly.
Now, getting into a bikini was going to take a little bit more effort. Let’s be honest, does any 56-year-old woman have any business wearing a bikini, much less one who can be described as ‘not too small, but not too large?’ I have a good friend who tells me every summer that wearing shorts is not a right but a privilege. However, my entire life I have been waiting to be the perfect size so I can wear a bikini. To be honest, I have weighed less than I do today, but I also have weighed more. Yet I never have worn a bikini. That’s not to say I haven’t owned them. I have, quite a few actually. I put one on underneath the cutest cover-up I own and then head to the pool. I remove the cover-up while lying down flat on a lounge chair. Anytime I get up, the cover-up is quickly thrown on top. That’s not really wearing a bikini; that’s wearing a cute cover-up.
This past spring, though, when I was in Cancun with my daughter’s high school class for spring break, another mom was sporting a bikini. Now, this mom was about my age, in great shape, but not in she-goes-to-the-gym-for-four-hours-a-day shape. She was in I-walk-30-minutes-a-day-and-lift-weights shape. She looked cute, and she walked around without a cover-up. More important, she didn’t apologize. Not once did she mention her thighs or stomach. She owned it. And from that moment, I wanted to be her. Of course it took me nearly an entire year to get up the nerve to make it happen, but I finally did .
Like most women, I hate swimsuit shopping, so I bought a bunch online and tried them on in the safety of my own home—without the fluorescent lighting or anyone knocking on the door asking me how I was doing. I found one that seemed to cover what needed to be covered but still could be called a bikini and decided the next time I was in a warm, sunny climate, I was going to wear it. Then, I promptly put it in my drawer and shoved it to the side. Every time I needed a swimsuit, I relied on my tankini. But then my birthday came and two musicians I admired died. So, remembering my New Year’s resolution to take a chance (and there is no bigger one for most women than appearing in public in swimwear), I put on the bright blue bikini, walked down the beach, and sang my favorite David Bowie lyric: “Let’s dance. Put on your red shoes and dance the blues.” And you know, not one single person looked at me, either in appreciation or horror. And, my friends, that is something I can live with.
Contact patty at phannum@townandstyle.com.
