Tucks of skin trickled out from a pink, tropical bikini top. My half-naked body glared back at me from the unforgiving gleam of a fitting room mirror as I modeled a two-piece suit, gripped to the grooves of my body.
It was the day every woman dreads, the day we wish we hadn’t eaten that cheesecake the night before, the day we regret skipping last week’s workouts, the day we subject our naked bodies to bright lights and full-length mirrors. It was bathing suit shopping day. Staring perplexed at my reflection, I tugged at the corners of bikini number twelve. Eleven failed attempts at finding a sexy suit swung from plastic hangers on the hook of the door. Read more …
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