The Completely Uneventful Bikini Event

No one at the pool knew me. My daughters were at camp. My husband was back at the AirBnB. I was never going to see any of these people ever again.

In fact, the other people at the adults-only pool were mostly two decades older. They were much more interested in chatting with each other than paying attention to me.

But I was still a little nervous about pulling my cover-up over my head. The bikini bottom wasn't a thong, but skimpy in a different way. It was a string bikini, and while my ass was covered, my lower belly wasn't. That's always been the part of me I instinctively try to hide.

Show off my ass-cheeks to the world? Apparently, yes.

But my lower belly in a string bikini? Twist my arm. Hard.

Which got me thinking about how the goalposts keep moving. For most of my adult life, the idea of wearing a thong bikini in public was outrageous. I couldn’t possibly. But now? I’ve done it multiple times.

In fact, when I was on a cruise in June with a friend, my thong bikini felt like my “most comfortable” bathing suit.

So that’s how I ended up at a pool in a string bikini, feeling not at all confident but feeling like I should be.

The bikini was expensive. I had been lured in by an Instagram ad promising the top was going to be a unicorn: supportive enough for my larger chest while still being cute. And despite the logistical challenge of a bikini top that looks like a bikini but is structured like an over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder, it ended up being the bottom that gave me pause. The first one I tried just didn't feel right. So I exchanged it for the string bikini, which, while a bit more skimpy, was actually more comfortable. And it was black-and-white gingham, which made it just so very cute.

So maybe it was that very specific variety of “girl math”: I spent way more on this bikini than I normally would, so damn it, I was going to wear the thing.

I was committed to the bikini.

And it was fine. Nothing happened. I reclined in a lounger and read a book for work.

Then I decided to cool off in the pool. I even brought my hardcover book with me, holding it in front of my face as I wandered around the pool like Belle in Beauty and the Beast, completely oblivious to the townspeople singing about her.

(No one sang about me... that I noticed.)

It was a completely uneventful bikini event.

What had seemed like such a big deal to me wasn’t even on anyone else’s radar.

At some point, I realized that if anyone noticed me at all, it probably wasn’t because of my string bikini bottom. It was because I was wearing a big floppy hat and wandering around the pool with a hardcover book held up in front of my face.

People usually use the phrase “the goalposts keep moving” as a negative. And maybe sometimes it is.

But in this instance, it feels right.

I used to assume that confidence was all or nothing. You either had it, or you didn’t.

But confidence isn’t a finish line. It’s a little more here, a little more there. The things that once felt impossible slowly become ordinary. And instead of arriving at some magical place where I never feel insecure again, I find myself standing at the edge of a new comfort zone, one that would’ve felt completely out of reach just a few years ago.

And I wouldn’t even say I’ve unlocked that level of string bikini confidence yet. If I think about it too long, I can still talk myself out of it.

But that afternoon in Williamsburg, I eventually became more focused on the book I was reading and my Disney princess aesthetic.

I was distracted by... just living my life.

I’m writing this from the beach, on vacation with friends and our families. I didn’t pack the black-and-white gingham bikini—not because I’m opposed to wearing a bikini on this trip, but because I knew I’d be spending at least a little time chasing kids on the sand, and I didn’t need a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.

But I did pack some other bikinis. In fact, one style (which I own in two colors) is so comfortable that I find myself walking around without a cover-up.

A few years ago, I couldn’t imagine walking around in any bikini without a cover-up.

Now I do it without really thinking about it.

Which makes me wonder what feels impossible today will someday become my new normal.