It was 1993. I just finished fifth grade and moved to a new neighborhood. My legs dangled on the side of the neighborhood pool. I gazed down at my swimsuit. It was a lime green bikini with a killer 90’s design. It had two small zipper pockets on the sides of its bottoms (because you know bathing suit pockets simply make good sense.)
It was my absolute favorite bathing suit, until that day. As I sat at the pool’s edge, I did not see my favorite swimsuit with killer pocket space. I saw belly rolls – big, gross, nasty rolls. My body went from being a vessel to carry me through life to becoming an object I despised, an object that would define my self-worth.