Is your body bikini ready?

Look, but don't judge

Last summer I spent on the beaches of Portugal. I quickly get bored with sunbathing, and the ocean water is usually too cold for me, so I spent most of the time sitting cross-legged in a blue Decathlon half-napsuit and staring at people. I was getting my eyes used to seeing unphotoshopped bodies. I was consciously nipping the opinions that were involuntarily popping into my head in the bud. I was unlearning what the media and society had been teaching me for the past three decades. I just wanted to watch – not judge.

I remember two young girls sunbathing topless two meters in front of me, with their breasts spilling over their ribs and their nipples pointing north and southwest.

I remember a guy with dreadlocks who danced a lot to music played from a boombox – mostly by himself, his friends just watching. When he laughed – and he laughed a lot and often – his round, dark chocolate-colored belly rippled.

I remember an older gentleman with white hair covering a hunched back, walking along the water's edge. And his gray-haired partner in a two-piece with strings, throwing herself into the waves like a teenager and pretending not to hear the lifeguard's whistle.

I remember a big girl in a beautiful, fiery red, frilly suit, running away squealing from her little boy. From a distance I could see the dots of cellulite on her thighs and the glint of desire in his eyes.

I remember a pale foreigner hiding from the merciless sun under a white umbrella. Her pregnant belly was clearly visible under her stylish suit.

I remember a thirty-year-old woman flying a kite with her husband and son. Then they threw a frisbee, and at the end they built a fantastic sandcastle. They were dressed identically the whole time – in panties.

I remember my boyfriend, brown from the sun, worn out by the ocean, basking in the sand like a lizard—with dry flakes of skin on his back that I liked to pick at with my fingernails. Most of the time, his skin was also covered in salty beads of water and sweat. I know because I tried.

I finally remember myself. Sometimes relaxed, sometimes tired from the heat, sometimes excited. Unevenly tanned, with freckles on my nose and a white mark from sunglasses. With hair stiff from salt and sand between my toes. Hunched and with crumbs of pastéis de nata on the rolls of my belly. Stretched out on a blanket with a book, scattered limbs and a twisted bathing suit; curled up in a ball in the corner of the half-tent. With hair on my legs and shaved armpits. With red abrasions from sand and stones when I let the waves toss me every now and then.

I don't remember ever feeling such physical freedom in a public place before.

Rules are there to…

I spent my entire childhood in a small seaside town that became a resort during the summer season, a tourist destination described in guidebooks. The proximity of the sea taught me a lot, but not body acceptance.

Over the years I have learned that women after a certain age should wear one-piece swimsuits, preferably full ones – low necklines or exposed backs are not advisable. If they decide to walk along the ocean – let them wrap a sarong around their hips. And best of all, let them not take off too much clothing at all, if they don’t have to. Only short or three-quarter sleeves are allowed, because who has ever seen someone showing mature shoulders. Shorts are absolutely forbidden. Dresses? Only longer ones, not too tight, not too colorful, not too eye-catching. Generally, not too much.

I have learned that younger girls also have to follow certain strict rules. It all comes down to the number on the clothing tag – the higher the number, the more rules to remember, similar to those imposed on mature women. Skinny girls without breasts are not left out either, especially if their thinness is accompanied by paleness – they are definitely sick, they definitely don’t eat anything, they should definitely stay home and sunbathe on the balcony at most. They can come back when they turn brown. And eat something decent. And put on a push-up bra.

I have learned that the male body is subject to different criteria than the female body. However, this does not mean that these criteria do not exist at all. A man, regardless of age, can expose quite a lot of skin. However, while a protruding belly will at most be met with the critical eye of a fellow beachgoer, back hair, acne scars or other skin changes should remain where they belong – hidden under a T-shirt. Not because of the harmful effects of sunlight – because of the opinions of complete strangers.

I learned that screens are there to be used. The wind, not the wind – the screen is part of our national beach tradition. We isolate ourselves from others because we know perfectly well that our bodies do not meet all the imposed criteria – no matter how hard we try, it is simply impossible. Once we are settled, we stick our heads out and judge the bodies of those who arrived without screens. They have only themselves to blame. The lenses of sunglasses are not the only filter through which we look at them.

There was a lot of education, as you can see (and you probably know yourself), rules and prohibitions – a whole lot, and all of this was forced into the head of a little girl, and later a growing teenager – someone who was just shaping her image of the world. And the image of herself in this world.

It took a lot of time, meeting many wise people, reading many texts, and making many conscious decisions to distract me from what a given body – including mine – looks like, and then redirect it to what it really represents.

Did I completely succeed?

Of course not. Honestly, I'm not sure I ever will. Certain things, repeated over and over, even if they're untrue and deeply harmful, stick in your head like persistent tea residue.

And so what if summer is long gone and when we are thirsty we tend to reach for chilled drinks?

So what if we don't even like tea?

Your body is bikini ready. What about mine?

I don't need to know what you look like to know that your body is bikini-ready. It always has been. I realize that the beauty industry has tried for years (probably quite successfully) to tell you otherwise. It isn't. But all those anti-cellulite creams, pink razors, miracle diets, and personal training sessions aren't going to sell themselves.

And don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to convince you to stop buying cosmetics, eating healthy or doing sports. Quite the opposite - do everything you can to make your body happy and serve you for as long as possible. However, do it with yourself, your taste and health in mind - not with the preferences of complete strangers in mind.

I also can't promise you that the way other beachgoers think will change this year or next. In fact, I can't promise that it will ever change (and at the same time I feel a growing social awareness and I'm keeping my fingers crossed). That they won't look and automatically judge, check to what extent our bodies fit into these strange norms established by who knows who. As if we were all sandcastles molded with just one mold.

You know what? They probably will.

It’s only partly their fault – we’re all so immersed in thebody shaming culture that we stand on our tiptoes and crane our necks and can barely breathe. Yes, it’s frustrating, but also… compassionate when we look around and see those who are drowning – drowning because of their own limitations; drowning because someone has drowned them, and not just once; drowning because no one has ever told them what else to do.

Notice a certain pattern – people who don’t accept the way others look are the same people who don’t accept their reflection in the mirror in the first place. In fact, it’s not your body that’s the problem for them (it’s very important that you’re aware of that) – the problem is the way they look. A filter built into the eyes and head – a filter that’s so hard to get rid of. Like that damn sediment on a glass.

You know, at some point in my life I decided I didn't want to be that person. I didn't want to drown and find solace in the fact that other people were drowning too. Staying afloat isn't easy, I admit, but the chance to breathe is worth it.

And I know that many people – more and more people – feel the same way. I hope you are – or will be soon – among us. I highly recommend it – it’s warm, pleasant and safe. And we have cookies!

So, see you on the beach?