An Open Letter To My Pre-Pregnancy Bikini

Dear Eternally Beloved Bikini,

I cheated on you. It was supposed to be a onetime thing, a fling that made up for the cold winter nights without you. Our long distance relationship was fading, I failed to remember the need to be perfect for you, and there he was, lurking in the dark pits of heaven: a Nutella Twix cupcake who had a mommy called Nola.

He looked so adorable and undeceiving. He knew how hard I worked to maintain a perfect physical relationship with you and how it was never enough – every summer you demanded more. In my 20s, it was easy to please you. I was young and malleable, but now 10 years and a child later, I find myself resisting change. You see, I never really stood a chance against him; we had an “I don’t give a shit” relationship that was more dynamic than yours.

He took advantage of my vulnerability, and what started as a fling turned into a full-blown affair. He satisfied me, so I kept asking for more, and now I am pregnant again. Actually, I am having quintuplets. Two babies are growing in my thighs, two in my cheeks and one in my belly. But now you are back from storage and I need to explain where it went wrong.

Let me start by saying, “Srew you” for making me look at the mirror more than I should and, “Go to hell” for making me try to look like the model you were flaunting online when I first laid my eyes on you then started stalking you. How dare you leave me loathing our summertime fling, dreading the possibility of facing you with my cellulite and stretch marks that I ended up with after I was miraculously blessed with a baby?

My affair was a wakeup call and I have no one to blame but myself. But now, I have outgrown you as a woman. I am embracing my post-baby stripes and orange-peeled skin, for they are scars of a divine intervention and a human creation that are far more earth-shattering than our body-oriented culture. You will always be my favorite lover, but now it’s time to spread your strings and fly.

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