At 68, I thought the hardest part of wearing a swimsuit would be finding the courage to step outside in it. I was wrong, because one cruel comment turned a family pool day into something none of us expected.
“Oh. You’re actually going in the pool?”
Vanessa’s voice stopped me halfway across the patio.
I looked down at my black one-piece, then back at my daughter-in-law.
“That was the plan.”
She didn’t laugh.
Instead, Vanessa looked me up and down while several relatives sat close enough to hear us.
“I just think at a certain age you have to be realistic about what people want to see.”
For a second, I couldn’t speak.
I was 68 years old, and until that weekend, I genuinely didn’t know there was apparently an expiration date on wearing a swimsuit.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Vanessa lowered her voice, although not enough.
“Patricia, you’re almost 70. You have wrinkles everywhere. There are teenagers here. I’m just saying maybe a cover-up would be more appropriate.”
My face burned.
The swimsuit wasn’t revealing or unusual.
It was a simple black one-piece I’d bought earlier that summer.
I’d actually thought it looked nice on me.
More importantly, my granddaughter Emily had been begging me to swim with her all afternoon.
“Grandma!” she called from the pool. “Come in!”
I looked toward her.
Then I noticed two relatives quickly looking away.
They had heard.
That made it worse.
I could have argued with Vanessa.
I could have asked why teenagers needed protection from the sight of an older woman’s knees and arms.
Instead, embarrassment won.
I wrapped my towel around myself.
“Maybe later, sweetheart,” I called to Emily.
Her smile disappeared.
“But you promised.”
“I know.”
Vanessa gave me a small nod, as though we’d settled something reasonably.
That hurt almost as much as what she’d said.
My son Daniel had organized the barbecue because the grandkids were out of school.
He’d spent the morning grilling, dragging chairs onto the patio, and filling coolers with drinks.
I didn’t want to ruin his day.
So I headed toward the house.
“Mom?”
Daniel was standing near the grill.
“Where are you going?”
“Inside.”
“I thought Emily finally convinced you to swim.”
“I changed my mind.”
His eyes dropped to the towel wrapped tightly around me.
“Why?”
“I’m cold.”
It was a ridiculous excuse.
The afternoon was hot enough to make the patio stones uncomfortable beneath bare feet.
