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THE SWIMSUIT
IT’S POSSIBLE THAT I should’ve tried on the swimsuit before I bought it. It’s not that it
doesn’t fit. It’s that it does, and very closely. Am I really expected to appear in public with
so little clothing on?
I’m in the bathroom looking between my actual body and my body in the mirror. The
suit is a bright pink one-piece with spaghetti straps. The pink is so bright that it gives
color to my cheeks. I look flushed, like a rosy-cheeked summer girl who belongs in the
sun.
Humidity has made my hair bigger than normal. I gather it up and plait it into a long
braid to subdue it. I look back to the mirror. The only way to subdue this suit is to wear
more, possibly all my clothing at once. I scan my body again. There’s really no denying
that I have breasts and legs in this thing. All my parts seem to be in the right proportion
and in the right place. I twist a little to confirm that my derriere is covered, and it is, but
only just. What would I see in the mirror if I were a normal girl? Would I think that I was
too fat or too thin? Would I dislike my hips, my waist, my face? Would I have body-image
issues? As it stands, my only issue is that I would gladly trade this body for one that
works properly.
Olly knocks on the door. “Are you snorkeling in there?”
I do eventually have to leave this bathroom, but I’m too nervous. Will Olly think all my
parts are in the right place?
“Deep-sea fishing actually.” My voice shakes only slightly.
“Fantastic. We’ll have sushi for—”
I pull the door open quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
Olly just stops talking. His eyes travel slowly from my face to my toes and even more
slowly back up again.
“You’re in a swimsuit,” he says. His eyes are on the expanse of skin between my neck
and chest.
“I am.” I look up into his eyes and what I see there makes me feel like I’m not wearing
any clothing at all. My heart picks up the pace and I take a deep breath to try to slow it
down, but it doesn’t work.
He runs his hands along the length of my arms, slowly pulling me toward him at the
same time. He touches his forehead to mine when we’re finally close enough. His eyes are
blue fire.
He looks like a starving man, like he could devour me all at once.
“That swimsuit,” he begins.
“Is small,” I conclude.