It was an itsy bitsy teenie weenie...

Today I tried on a bikini and it wasn't horrendous. I mean it didn't fit me and I would never be ok about wearing it in public but I didn't cry. Let me explain.

Since I've started this project I've been thinking about trying on a bikini. The scientist in me feels I need to know how I feel in one now so I can compare my progress against that feeling when I try on bikinis in future months. However, when you start a project in December there ain't that many of the old clingy skin revealers in the shops so I've had to bide my time.

In that time I've imagined a whole array of horrific scenarios most of which end with me hugging my knees and crying on the floor of a fitting room surrounded by every size and shape of bikini imaginable. A fear which was very much of the forefront of my mind when, while shopping for what was supposed to be a curtain rail, I found myself in a clothing shop. Their Spring collection had arrived. Their bikinis were in. I pretended I was looking for other clothes and just happened to pick up a bikini as part of the items I was trying on. When I reached the dressing room my heart was pounding. My head was shouting “What in the name of jaysus are you doing? We're not ready for this Fleming!” The girl on the fitting room politely informed me that I had two too many items. TWO. Amongst the clothes in my hand, I had one bikini top and one bikini bottom. That's right mathematicians, that does equal two items. I could leave them and try on the other clothes I wasn't planning on buying or I could sacrifice two t-shirts I didn't even need and instead try on the bikini...

I quickly handed the girl the two t-shirts and rushed into the fitting room. I, of course, tried on everything else in my hand first and I, of course, ended up buying some of them but let's not focus on that. I looked at the beautiful turquoise bikini in font of me. I chose a halter top bikini because I usually like how I look in halter tops and hoped that that feeling of vague appreciation would transfer to this moment. Then I noticed the size. In my rush to not make choosing a bikini to try on feel like a big deal, I had picked up a size 8. Now I know I have trouble seeing myself as a non-Jabba the Hut female being but I am no size 8. Feck sake Fleming. The experiment was ruined.

However, the fact that the size was wrong took the pressure off. I could try it on and it didn't matter what it looked like because it wasn't ever going to fit me anyway. I put the top on and there was no way my boobs were staying in that thing but I was able to see that the colour was a nice shade on me and that a halter top bikini definitely had potential. The bottom part was my usual size so I felt a bit more trepidation about putting those on and rightly so. There was way too much ass crack poking out for it to be acceptable (WHY ARE BIKINI BOTTOMS SO TINY?). The comical size of this bikini meant I was able to look at the bikini objectively and not berate myself for how bad I looked in it aside from a brief moment of shock when I caught sight of my cellulite but ah well!

Sure, Rome wasn't built in a day.