Dear Pomegranate,

I went bikini shopping the other day, and honestly? It was a lot, to say the least. I’m going on holiday soon, and my old bikinis are absolutely knackered, so I thought it’s about time I treated myself to some new ones. Simple enough, I thought.

I went into what felt like every single shop in the mall, trying on style after style, and regardless of what bikini I put on, I couldn’t face myself in the mirror. Every reflection felt like a betrayal, and I came out of every single changing room feeling worse than when I went in. It feels horrible to say, but I genuinely felt disgusted by what I was seeing.

The strange thing is, on the same trip, I popped into a lingerie shop. I don’t often treat myself to nice pieces, but when I tried things on that day, it was like I was seeing a completely different person staring back at me. When I tried that red lacy set on, my body somehow felt like it had transformed into what I wanted it to be. The bikinis were the same shape, the same cut, the same everything and yet, I couldn’t recognise myself at all.

In the midst of the hurt, I think I finally understand why. Lingerie feels like it’s mine. It’s private, it’s something for me, and I feel empowered in that ownership. A bikini, though? It feels like a contest. You’re standing outside in the sun, displaying your body for the world to judge. My cellulite fully on show to everyone as the sun bounces off my creases.

It’s bizarre because I’m genuinely confident most of the time. I walk around my flat in my underwear and bra with no problem – a bit of music on in the background, and I might just catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and throw a cheeky wink. I’m comfortable in my own skin in everyday life, but when summer comes around, it’s like something completely switches.

I brought my partner along to help with the shopping, and even he couldn’t get me out of that headspace. He was patient and kind and kept telling me I looked beautiful, and I wanted so badly to believe him, but I couldn’t even bring myself to step out of the changing room and show him. That really hurt me, if I’m being honest.

I don’t want to rule myself out of swimming and going to the beach because of this, but there’s genuinely this whisper that says I’m not good enough to wear a bikini, that I don’t measure up to all those other girls who seem so effortlessly confident in theirs. I just want to lie on a beach one day with no bother about me, without having to walk around the resort with a towel around me at all times. I want to stop hiding away from my body, because that’s really not who I am.

I hope others feel this way too, because right now it feels quite isolating. One step at a time, though, and hopefully I will learn to love my body in a bikini as much as I do in lingerie.

Signed, anonymous x