Bikini kill

I would rather slice my tongue many times over with a piece of paper and then squeeze a mix of lemon juice, vinegar and salt over it than go shopping for a bikini. Especially in Winter. But I am going to the Whitsundays next month and I want a new bikini - something that goes with white (hair and skin) - so I had to front up at a surf shop and face the racks and racks of bikinis even though it was freezing cold and I had been hiding under layers for the last few months.

Bikini shopping brings back terrible memories for me from growing up on the coast - a time when looking like this seemed to be the only way to find true happiness:

Source: www.weheartit.com

I never achieved this. But that didn't stop me trying for quite some time. It wasn't until the last few years of high school that I was happy being my own little misfit self and prior to that I wanted what every other teenager wants - not just to fit in, but to be super-duper popular. And the popular girls looked all smiley and perfect and ran along the beach, hand-in-hand, laughing while their gorgeous boyfriends surfed or whatever. (Ok - this may not actually be what they spent their time doing, but what would I know? I was too busy sitting under a tree reading for god's sake!)

This feeling that I won't fit in or look right comes screaming back whenever I step into a surf shop. The girls and guys that work there seem to look exactly like the people I went to school with and the smell of neoprene that hangs in the air still makes me feel a little queasy with feelings of inadequacy. They smile and offer assistance but I can tell that they are actually wondering what a loser like me is doing in their shop.

What also doesn't help in this situation is that, in spite of all my previous experiences, I have unreasonable expectations of what I will look like in a bikini. As if I have somehow acquired the body of a Victoria's Secrets model since my last expedition. Or that the bikinis will now have the ability to disguise, enhance and transform my body as required with only the teensiest bit of lycra.

And so it was whenI went into this shopping nightmare last weekend with the goal of finding a bikini that would make me look amazingly gorgeous - but like I wasn't trying too hard. Something that would make me look like these guys:

Source: www.yeswecancan.tumblr.com

Source: www.thefilmyap.com 

Source: www.tvshark.com

Source: lebeauflaneur.blogspot.com

Source: www.weheartit.com

Source: www.thevine.com.au

Source: www.perfectpeople.net



Source: www.moviecritic.com.au


Add to all of this delusional thinking:  dehydrated, pasty-white skin, goose-bumps, red lines that have been imprinted into my belly by my opaque tights, unpedicured feet and a stomach that is trying to digest the lunch I had just 15 minutes ago. Is it any wonder then that I end up shoving arm-fulls of rumpled up lycra at the perfectly perky 16 year old shop assistant (who, unscrupulously, told me I looked "totes hot" in every hideous pair I tried on) and flee the store a trembling, depressed mess? I then had to counter the unhealthy voice in my head that was telling that I should never eat again by listening to the also unhealthy, yet much louder and more awesome-sounding, voice that told me to eat my own weight in jelly beans.

And I swear I will NEVER go bikini shopping again!

The great thing is - maybe I won't have to. Last night, in a fit of desperation, I ordered a pretty, cute and nicely priced paisley bikini from asos.com without having to go through any of this pain. Of course, it might end up being a total disaster when it arrives and I finally try it on (in the comfort of my own home!) but at least buying it didn't suck every last shred of self-esteem from my pasty, goose-pimply body.