The Swimsuit: A Choose Your Own Adventure Story

Melissa opens the door to her mid-century ranch home, kicking her pumps into the corner of the welcome mat. She places her keys in a bowl by the door and gently rests her computer case beside the couch. Two Chewy.com boxes are stacked on the floor in front of her. A blue and white Old Navy bag rests on top. Moving over to the boxes, she brushes her fingers across the name on the packages, which are not hers, but her daughter, Charlotte's. Melissa smiles, happy to see her chore system working, and her 10-year old taking full advantage of her new debit card. Leaving the boxes at their spot by the door, Melissa moves toward the kitchen, her mind focused on making dinner for her family. She sets the oven to 350 degrees, and pulls a pre-made chicken casserole from the refrigerator, knowing neither of her kids will want to eat it, and and her husband will suggest take out. Nevertheless, she’s committed to cooking the dish, and takes comfort knowing she will not let it go to waste because she will eat it for lunch each day this week. The motions of after-work rituals are both a relief and exhausting. After fourteen years of diligent implementation of the children’s transition routine, the duties of a working parent are second nature to her. She could make dinner, sift through backpacks for uneaten, half-rotted fruit, and fill a bubbly bathtub, with her eyes closed. Waiting for the oven to heat, she pours a glass of wine, adds a few ice cubes, and closes her eyes, meditating in the quiet. She hears car doors slamming, followed by the front door. Her daughters kick their shoes in all four directions and throw their coats on the couch. “Did you throw your coats on the couch again?” Melissa calls without turning toward the noise. Her youngest, Charlotte, stomps into the kitchen. "YOU" she demands, "need to re-braid my hair tonight. It's all loose, and it looks terrible! You are bad at braiding."

The timer dings and Melissa slips the casserole into the oven. "It's nice to see you, too!" she sings to her daughter with a smile on her face and anger under the surface.

With her arms folded across her chest, Charlotte eyes Melissa's motions. "I. AM. NOT. EATING. THAT. DISGUSTING. FOOD!" She stomps from the kitchen.

"I had a good day! Thanks for asking!" Melissa calls before swirling wine in her mouth, then, speaks to no one in the room, "Hey, Alexa! Play Alanis, These Are the Reasons I Drink." She decides she has enough time, while the casserole bakes, to get on her pajamas, go to the bathroom, and maybe even mindlessly scroll social media. She pads down the hallway, enters her bedroom, and sees Charlotte on the floor, ripping into the Old Navy bag.

"Mom!" Charlotte shouts with enthusiasm, "My bathing suit!" She shreds the packaging, tossing small pieces of plastic under the bed. Triumphantly, she holds the suit in front of her, bending her back ever so slightly to place it on her chest without it slipping. "Should I try it on?" she asks Melissa. Before Melissa can answer, Charlotte's clothes are a puddle on the floor, and she lifts one foot into the suit. Melissa looks down, knowing Charlotte doesn't usually care about being naked in front of her mother, and also knowing if they made eye contact, Charlotte would quickly turn her back and castigate Melissa for invading her personal space.

The suit is a white one-piece, showcasing hundreds of tiny, smile emojis. The fabric has cut outs at the waist, to create triangles of bare skin on the front and back sides. It is the trendiest of swimsuits for tweens, as seen on Pinterest and Etsy. As Charlotte adjusts the straps and stretches the holes around her legs, Melissa remembers the designs and styles of every suit this child has worn since infancy, from a once piece with polka dots and ruffles to a tankini with hearts and hot pink sparkles. She recalls hours at the lake, Charlotte and her sister with buckets and shovels in hand, covered in sand. She visualizes Charlotte at the ocean, collecting shells and sea weed, and the tan lines she has by the end of a week at the beach. Melissa can nearly measure time in memories of her child's swimsuits; moments in Lycra, when time stood still.

This suit, and this year, seem different. Gone are the sea shells and the sand buckets. Charlotte's baby crescent-roll legs are now thick and strong. The emojis and waist cut outs are more flirty than fun. Her choice of white is focused less on common sense and more on confidence.

Charlotte runs to the bathroom, standing on tiptoes at the edge of the shower stall, to get a full torso view of herself in the mirror. Melissa pulls her phone out of her back pocket, holding it for Charlotte to see. "Would you like me to take your photo? You'll get a full body view."

Charlotte steps down from the shower edge, places one foot forward, juts a hip out, and takes the longest, deepest inhale she possibly can, contorting her torso and sucking her belly in.

With the camera hiding her face from her child, Melissa realizes she has 3 seconds to make a decision to say something that will likely piss her daughter off, and potentially leave an indelible mark on her for the rest of her life. Who doesn't have a mother/daughter swimsuit/weight story that they carry to their grave?

Stay here if you chose ending 1:

Melissa sucks in her own breath, holding it as she snaps a dozen photos. Charlotte grabs the camera from Melissa's hands and deletes or edits with the swiftness and ease of a seasoned graphic designer. "You're a bad photographer. Send those to me so I can put them on my Instagram page." Charlotte tosses the suit to the ground and hurries from the room, leaving Melissa to pick up the suit and the tiny pieces of plastic wrapping. Melissa places the suit on Charlotte's bed, eats the Chinese food her husband ordered and spoons the casserole into six, single- serving, glass bowls. She eats one in bed later that night while she lays alone and scrolls through photos of Charlotte and her sister at the lake when they were babies.

Read below if you selected ending 2:

"Charlotte!" Melissa snaps, "Stop sucking in! You are not going to fall victim to the bikini industrial complex. We've talked about this." She lowers the phone and looks her daughter in the eye. "The need for you to be skinny is a societal construct and it's bullshit."

Charlotte rolls her eyes, recognizing that her mother is using her parental authority to preach and lecture her, again.

"Mom, "Charlotte huffs. "You are such a dummy!" Nevertheless, she relaxes her stomach and half smiles for the photos. Charlotte grabs the camera from Melissa's hands and deletes or edits with the swiftness and ease of a seasoned graphic designer. "You're a bad photographer. Send those to me so I can put them on my Instagram page." Charlotte tosses the suit to the ground and hurries from the room, leaving Melissa to pick up the suit, and the tiny pieces of plastic wrapping. Melissa places the suit on Charlotte's bed, eats the Chinese food her husband ordered and spoons the casserole into six, single- serving, glass bowls. She eats one in bed later that night while she lays alone and scrolls through photos of Charlotte and her sister at the lake when they were babies.

Read on to learn what really happened:

Melissa stares at her daughter through the camera phone, a moment of profound sadness filling her belly and chest. She remembers hating her own body, feeling like a child in a swimsuit, even as a teenager. She has tried to use body positive language, and to instill body positivity into their family values, but she knows the battle can't be fought alone. Her voice as their mentor, and her position as protector, is growing quieter and softer.

"Hey, Char," she calls out softly, "don't suck in your tummy, you cutie."

Charlotte smiles, sticks out her tongue, and poses for a second or two. She grabs the camera from Melissa's hands, and deletes or edits with the swiftness and ease of a seasoned graphic designer. "You're a bad photographer. Send those to me so I can put them on my Instagram page." Charlotte tosses the suit to the ground and hurries from the room, leaving Melissa to pick up the suit, and the tiny pieces of plastic wrapping. Melissa places the suit on Charlotte's bed, eats the Chinese food her husband ordered and spoons the casserole into six, single- serving, glass bowls. Charlotte crawls into bed with her, and Melissa combs and re-braids Charlotte's hair, placing a single kiss on the back of her neck when she is done. Charlotte lays her head on her mom's chest and Melissa leans down toward her child's ear. "I love you just the way you are, Charlotte."

They stay that way for the next hour, scrolling through photos of Charlotte and her sister in their swimsuits, playing at the lake when they were babies.