Stringing the Bikini

Bikini season has officially begun, so I guess its time to throw in the towel and admit defeat. The deadline for my weighty New Years resolution to shed thirty pounds by the start of summer has come and gone ... and yet it still remains very much unresolved. And to think, 2006 was to be The Year of the Bikini.

Hey, holding out with hope for six months is a long time. Most people would have given up much sooner. But not me—I'll always root for the underdog, even if she is thirty pounds overweight. I consider myself a fighter, but unfortunately, this year, I just wasn't much of a contender when it came to the heavyweight battle of the bulge.

I had overlooked the amount of actual work it would take to haul my haunches to the gym for a weight-shedding workout. Although, I did manage to watch several Pilates tapes at home in fast-forward while eating a Lean Cuisine (okay, ice cream—and maybe topped with a little fudge). I suppose that I had grossly miscalculated just how much I'd miss munching on handfuls of M&Ms, both plain and peanut, not to mention the more-than-occasional Big Mac.

I guess I had drastically underestimated the tenacious bond between my body fat and me; one that seemed to render us inseparable.

So now, as I do just about every year at this time, I've come to the conclusion that my ample thighs and doughy middle are joined at the hip like an old married couple. They've been together so long they can't seem to remember life without each other, and they're just too darned tired to even try.

I've come to see that wishful thinking and a wardrobe of black will only take you so far, and that deducting 10 pounds from the scale for a hair scrunchy is ultimately self-defeating. It is also now clear to me that, pound for pound, broken cookies do, in fact, have the same calorie count as those un-crumbled, even when eaten over the sink.

But this seasonal epiphany about my jiggle won’t shake my resolve. Just because I don't feel comfortable hanging out in a string bikini, I shouldn't have to feel completely strung out, like I'm dangling helplessly from a thread. Remember, there's always hope even when you think that you are at the bitter end of your rope!

Here's the skinny: This summer I'm going to cut myself some slack and stop stringing this bikini thingy along. In fact, I'm now calling 2006 The Year of the Modestly Cut Black One-Piece Maillot, With Full-Fanny Coverage & A Tightly-Tied Sarong!

Never underestimate the doggedness of the underdog—even if she is a little over her fighting weight! This summer you’ll find me poolside in my pareo, taking my victory lap!