The Swimsuit Monologues

Beach season is here, and so is its unique terror – getting into clothing that displays us at our near-naked best. We invited a bunch of women to divulge their unique relationship with their swimsuit.

- Dhvani Solani

I have vivid memories of my first ever swimsuit – an itsy-bitsy teenie-weenie red (sorry, yellow) polka dot bikini with Minnie Mouse ears that fanned across the chest. My seven-year-old self was mighty pleased wearing it in all water bodies, even the tubs in hotel rooms, and intermittently, the shower back home.

Little did I know then, that my relationship with this singular piece of clothing would turn into a sordid, tumultuous affair in the years up ahead, making me loathe those few seconds when I would drop the towel and sprint towards the sea or the pool. Those few seconds when the world would (I presumed) notice, watch, judge and criticise the stretch marks and cellulite that had gate-crashed during puberty, and stayed on as permanent roommates. Oh, and the ass-that-won’t-quit.

It took me a long time to get into a bikini again, and I went through decades going from a matronly swim dress to boy shorts-and-tankini to a one-piece with independent boy shorts so that the skinny patrol wouldn’t arrest me. I am not even obese or unflattering to look at. But I had bikini body insecurities long before I realised that all I needed to get an actual bikini body, was to simply buy a bikini and have a body.

I’m not saying that I don’t think about my non-existent thigh gap when I put on my current swimsuit – a classic one-piece that serves the purpose. But it did take me a while to get to a point where I was focusing more on having fun than wondering who was looking at my bikini line.

We spoke to six women to find out about their own adventures and journeys with the swimsuit.

AVNI RAMBHIA, hair and make-up artist