Last weekend, I drove over the mountains to Sunny Ski Town with a couple of friends. We had lovely intentions of hiking and exploring the mountains, but when we got to downtown SST, there were sale racks of clothes out on the sidewalks, and we got sucked in. (Don't worry, we got in some outdoor time, too, and a couple of meals that were so delicious that I am dreaming of them right now.)
One of the stores sold used cowboy boots, some consignment clothes, a bunch of random cute little household objects, and a local swimsuit line. Local to Gone West, actually, although I've never shopped it here.
I tried on a swimsuit that wasn't right for me, and, standing in front of the mirror in the store, I pointed to the upper part of my stomach. "I don't like this," I said. (I usually try to avoid this kind of body shaming, and I'm generally happy with my body, but as a rule, that is the part that I would try to cover in a swimsuit.)
The sales person, who was sitting behind me at the counter with a big steaming cup of tea, said, very gently, "You look beautiful whatever you wear."
I heart her.
The next suit I tried on was perfect.