This week, I have decided to start swimming. Spring break is here on campus and that means that all the little undergrads are away, leaving the campus pools available and free of self esteem damaging sorority girls.
My back has been seriously killing me lately and I've been told swimming is the ideal pain free exercise for pregnant women. Pain free, except that it would require me to purchase a new bathing suit. There was simply no way my now colossal sized ass was going to fit into my skanky little two piece of last year and as Nick so helpfully pointed out, "your boobs will fall out of that." Now, its not that I think I have gotten tremendously huge, but lets be honest, we all know I've had my fair share of body issues and I for one knew this pregnancy was going to be an interesting exploration of my weight obsessed psyche.
So yesterday, I decided to bite the bullet and go find a suit. I didn't want to go it alone and since any girlfriend of mine who would be willing to put up with me is more than a hundred miles away, I had to take Nick with me. I assumed I would need the moral support. We got to the store and I started picking out relatively demure two pieces and tankinis (it just doesn't seem reasonable to get a one piece which would require me bending down to put it on, especially now that I can barely get my sneakers on). I kept grabbing smaller sizes for the tops but Nick *helpfully* assured me that I would be able to fill out the large and possibly even the extra large, and as it turns out he was right. The man knows how to judge a cup size, what can I say.
Surprisingly, the experience was not as traumatic as I thought it would be and to be honest, almost every other bathing suit shopping experience, even the ones when I've been in the best of shape, were far more devastating. I think its because those times were so fraught with worry, so overly focused on cellulite, and this time I just didn't care all that much. I mean, I'm pregnant. Who the hell am I supposed to look hot for in a bikini right now?
So, I'm no pregnant Heidi Klum, who cares? I actually giggled with relief at one point in the dressing room because even though my butt looked epically huge, at no point did I want to cry. Instead, I was just overcome with this weird sense of self acceptance and the realization that there are things in the world that are more important, i.e. bigger than, the amount of cellulite on my ass. I feel bad for all of the wise and many well intentioned people in my life that have made me try to see that before this. I guess I just had to get knocked up.
Now, I'm interested to see how long this zen like emotional state will last when I a) actually go swimming when other people are around b)get exponentially bigger and c)have the baby and am left with an extra 15 pounds. But for right now, I'm going to enjoy it and go eat some more macaroni salad.
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