Fedore Writer

As my sister, Karen, and I packed for our trip to Cabo this December, we made a pact to ignore the claims of what’s appropriate attire for “older women” and unburied our bikinis. Mine hadn’t seen daylight for two decades.

What prompted this bikini liberation was a trip to LA in August for our uncle’s funeral. While there, we joined our cousin at her retirement community pool.

I borrowed a full piece bathing suit from my cousin, though she also had offered a bikini as if it was perfectly normal attire for a woman my age. Lying on the lounger at the 55+ community pool, I noticed women wearing bikinis, including my cousin. It was as if rain clouds parted, and sunlight streamed into my brain. Why had I resisted wearing a bikini? Why had I allowed my mother’s comments about covering up wrinkles, cellulite, and spider veins – which the media and plastic surgeons wholly reinforce – to influence my choices?

Five months later, Karen and I had arrived in Cabo and were in our hotel room preparing for pool-side lounging. While my sister and I slathered sunscreen on our fish-belly-white stomachs for the first time in years, Karen said, “We look pretty good for our age.”

“I’m trying not to make this about how I look,” I replied. “I’m trying to make this about not worrying what others think. If they don’t like it . . .” I imitated Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids, “Look away! Look away!”

Not for attention, but for personal freedom

Twenty years ago, when I replaced my bikini with a full piece, I hadn’t given much thought to what the garment symbolized or why I stored it in a drawer. However, researching for this blog brought clarity to what I was trying to articulate to my sister while in Cabo.

Melissa Zanini writes in her blog, “History of the Bikini: A Revolutionary Garment,” that the bikini “has become a symbol of empowerment and liberation,” that it “became popular among daring young women who sought to express their own sense of self-confidence and independence,” and “is a symbol of self-expression.” Bingo.

Comically, I also learned that the 1960’s song, “Itsy, Bitsy, Teenie, Weenie, Yellow Polka Dot Bikini,” isn’t about a daring girl on the beach. Instead, she’s hiding from public view, submerged in the ocean, and freezing! In Cabo, I didn’t want to be that girl – daring and independent but not quite following through.

Let’s say, “No,” to “who wore it best.”

The media is the worst for worming into our thoughts. Paparazzi

clamor to take photos of celebrities in their bathing suits – to either exalt or criticize them, advertisers tell us that we need plastic surgery to tuck away fat and wrinkles, and our mothers – hailing from a different generation – encourage us to cover it up.

Women of varying shapes and ages in Cabo defied these paralyzing and toxic messages. This might have had something to do with being on vacation. Yet, the women in that retirement community pool, closer to home, proved that we ought to put it out there . . . wrinkles and all.

And, when we do, we realize that we’d needlessly made a huge deal over small pieces of fabric. Lounging next to the pool, in the sun and under an umbrella, my sister and I realized that wearing a bikini was a non-issue and we never should’ve tucked them away in the first place.

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