Page 31 of The Love Haters

“Put it on,” Beanie commanded.

“I don’t want to. That’s the truth. I just really don’t want to. And the class is about to start.”

“Just do it,” Beanie urged.

“The thing is,” I said, “I’ve been staring at it for fifteen minutes, and I can’t seem to make it happen.”

“Why not?” Beanie asked.

“A funny feeling in my chest seems to be holding me frozen.”

“What’s the feeling?”

“I think it’s fear.”

“You’reafraid of a bathing suit?”

I turned the phone back my way so I could make eye contact andsaid, “I mean, I don’t think it’s going to come to life and strangle me or anything. I just… don’t want to wear it.”

Beanie gave me a look.

But I stood up for myself. “Don’t act like this is ridiculous.”

Softly, hoping not to hurt my feelings, Beanie said, “Itisridiculous.”

“Hey,” I said, “I don’t need your judgment.”

“I guess I just don’t understand the problem. It’s red. It’s fun. It’s got that cute little sweetheart neckline.”

None of this solved anything.

Beanie went on, “People wear swimsuits all the time. It’s fine.”

“Not for me.”

“But why not?”

“Because…” I had never tried to articulate this before. “Because it feels like being naked.”

“But you’renotnaked in a bathing suit,” Beanie protested. “You’re in a bathing suit. All the important stuff is covered.”

“Not for me.”

“What else do you want to cover?”

“You know,” I said, waving my hand. “Just—everything.”

Beanie thought about this. “So there’s some stepmother-based shame there,” she said.

“Definitely.”

“And some self-criticism.”

“For sure.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself right now?”

“I’m not the only woman in the world with body-image issues,” I said.

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