What Do Minimalists Wear To Go Swimming?

Maybe they just don’t go swimming? Or maybe they go naked or in their underwear? It’s a mystery to me. Personally, I do own swimwear. I guess I’d consider it a tiny seasonal capsule: a two-piece bathing suit, rash guard shorts and top, and neoprene swim shoes. This little ensemble was acquired last year when my husband and I were attempting to take a mini vacation. My parents have a little cottage in Cape Cod, and we’ve twice now attempted to take some time off there. The first time, we had an Ebay mishap and had to drive home (about an hour and a half) in order to ship a package in time. We returned to the cottage, but threw in the towel (so to speak) after another day or two. At the time I was feeling pretty bad, having akathisia and demanding of my husband a constant card game or round of scrabble. I was incapable of relaxing. Our second attempt was a little better. We did actually make it to the beach two or three times- and once we actually swam.

For this much-planned-for-but-barely-achieved swimming, I wore my bathing suit: pretty standard bikini bottoms with a folder waistband and a fitted camisole top with a flowy crochet overlay, all in navy blue. I also wore the swim shoes (there are lots of rocks and crabs at the Cape). On dry land, I wore the black rash guards over the top, both for modesty and for sun protection. The rash guards consist of a stretchy short-sleeve top, bought in way too large a size so it would be loose, and a pair of fitted mid-thigh shorts. I went through a lot when shopping for these items, ordering different sizes, returning them, finally settling on a suit from Amazon in a 2X. The top fits well and doesn’t ride up or anything, but the bottoms are designed for wider hips than mine. This just means the seat bags out a little bit unless I jack them up really high (not a good look for me). I tried and returned a blouson top and shorts set from Walmart which was really cute, but had a serious foam-cup shelf bra inside it, which I suspected would float even when I didn’t. Originally, I was trying to keep it simple and just go with the rash guards as my bathing suit, but I didn’t want a tight top which would roll up when I moved, and the loose top has the same issues with the foam bra top- it floats. In any case, I’m happy to see that the world of swimwear is finally catching on to the idea that not everyone wants to be wearing what looks like underwear at the beach. There are all kinds of swim shorts, skirts, dresses, and different styles of tops out there to choose from, in many different sizes. Plenty of people, plus-sized and straight-sized alike, love the traditional underwear-type looks and that’s all well and good. But for me, it never felt right. I mean, post-childhood, I wouldn’t even wear shorts until a couple years ago.

I’ve tried, over the past several years, to figure out the swimwear conundrum - how do I look like myself and still get to go swimming? I’ve gone through various styles of suit, some traditional, some less so. My last suit was just a stretchy tank and running shorts (with the little underwear inside) bought in haste from a Target in Virginia, where Matt was working, and where our building had a pool and hot tub. This worked well for that trip, but the chlorine pretty much destroyed the fabrics by the time we left. Before that, there was a black deep V-neck one-piece suit from the Gap. I got it on clearance and wore it in our building’s pool in Palm Beach, again where Matt was working. I never felt like it looked very good, at least not how I’d imagined it would, and so at some point it disappeared. Before that, I do recall a vintage-look suit from TJ Maxx in a deep teal. It had ruching throughout, so it masked my rolls of flesh and made me feel less exposed. That one didn’t hold up to the elements for very long, either, so it, too, disappeared. The last time before that that I remember owning a suit was in college when I cut a lavender leotard in half at the waist and wore that to the beach. And then there were my high school years: my freshman year, my family went to Mexico for a week, and I wore one of my bikinis from my early adolescence. I remember feeling like I was spilling out of it since my weight had increased a bit over the years, and I also remember bingeing on candy bars from the hotel gift shop alone in our room while everyone else was at the beach. The bikini was one of a couple suits that I wore when I was 10-12 years old. I’d lost a significant amount of weight since my chubby childhood, starting to diet and count calories when I was 9. Wearing a bikini seemed like a natural benefit to being thin. It never occurred to me that I might not want to show so much skin. So I acted like the people in the Dexatrim and Slim-fast ads on TV- I lost the weight and stripped down to my underwear. Wasn’t that the whole idea?

I’ve promised myself that I won’t do that again. I won’t expose myself simply because I’m thin. I truly believe that part of the impetus for my weight gain has been my subconscious’s attempt to protect me from all that: If I stay fat, then no one gets to look at me in my underwear. But now being fat and exposing your body aren’t mutually exclusive. Plenty of people love the more body-positive movement in swimwear, lingerie, and sexy clothes. But I’ve realized that fat or thin, I just like to be covered. I don’t like to be objectified or on display for everyone to see. Sure, I have bathing suit fantasies of being thin and on some tropical beach somewhere, but in reality, I need to feel clothed in order to feel like a person.