This Swimsuit Changed Me
by Audie Metcalf
I was the girl in ballet class who everyone called “solid.” I didn’t know it at the time. All I knew was that I loved pulling on my pale pink Danskin leotard and really committing to every plié.
Same with gymnastics. And soccer. And my GOD, going to the beach.
Being taken to Filene’s Basement to purchase a new swimsuit for the summer was better than Christmas. It held the promise of pool days and long weekends and slip ‘n’ slides and laying under sprinklers in the grass.
When selecting the perfect swimsuit at 8 years old, all I considered were the fun colors. And if it didn’t feel scratchy. That’s it.
But then, I got older. We all got older.
For a few years I thought about what might look the cutest, or reveal my cleavage in the sexiest way, but that quickly fell away. As I entered my twenties, shopping for swimsuits became a chore. A shame-filled chore. Would it actually cover my entire (solid) butt? Would it be cut so high on my leg that my hip stretch-marks would show? The whole process became something I feared. Because all I could think of were the events that would now be tied to wearing a swimsuit: corporate weekends where we all “camped” together and swam in lakes and did trust falls. They’ll all see my full body? Horrifying. Pool parties with people I didn’t know who would see that I had cellulite and immediately think less of me? A living nightmare.
Swimsuits used to hold the promise of freedom. And now, as big, dumb adults, they hold the guarantee of absolute dread.
I will be honest with you. I didn’t want to write this article. Even though I found the most amazing swimsuit I’ve worn in my adult life, and we pitched Andie on working with us, because I REALLY wanted other women to feel the way this swimsuit made me feel, I was very clear with my team that I didn’t want to be the one wearing it. Wearing a SWIMSUIT? ON THE INTERNET? WITH NO PHOTOSHOP!? I couldn’t imagine a more hideous turn of events.
But after we all discussed it, I realized it was just pure fear holding me back. The same fear I've had for 30 years. And I reeeeeeeally needed you all to experience the glory that is the Andie Amalfi Swimsuit.
And so here I am.
Wearing a swimsuit.
On the internet.
With no photoshop.
At first, I did not enjoy doing this. At all.
When I was taking the photos, alone in my backyard, with this rickety tripod I hastily purchased on Amazon, it did not feel good. It felt awkward. I mean, I even noticed myself quickly throwing on a cover up after I shot some photos. Why? It was gloriously warm outside, I was totally alone, and yet my natural impulse, even then, was to hide.
But then I looked at some of the pictures and I really tried to see them for what they were.
I realized that this swimsuit actually looked…good on me. I tried to imagine I was looking at someone else wearing this perfectly cut, amazingly flattering swimsuit, and imagine what they might see.
And then things started to change.
I had already gotten the requisite photos I needed, but I was overcome with wanting to bid these fears a final and unequivocal, farewell.
And then I just really went hog wild.
I have to say, even though that last shot was slightly (very) ridiculous, and I spent waaaay too much time/money on the props/all of it, if there's a photo out in the world that has nestled into your consciousness like THIS ONE did for me, I highly recommend recreating it. Possibly in a swimsuit, for extra oomph. It's extremely fun. And fun is so deeply underrated as adults.
Ok. So the question is. Why is this swimsuit so magical that it can single-handedly erase (or start to erase) 30 years of swimsuit shame?
Let me count the ways.
First, the material is so unbelievably stretchy and flattering and it doesn’t have those grotesquely too-tight leg holes that CREATE lumps where there were previously NO lumps. I actually did a little side by side comparison with another swimsuit I owned that I have always felt horrible wearing.
Just look at the difference in the cut of the leg! My god!
Second, clearly the wizards at Andie are really thinking about the overall design and shape of their swimsuits, and how they look and feel on bodies. I truly cannot believe how much the ribbed Amalfi suit feels more like a chic piece of clothing, rather than An Official Swimsuit.™ I’ve always felt like some hulking football player when wearing most other swimsuits, but these gorgeously thin straps are so unbelievably flattering—and yes, they are especially lovely if you are bigger in the bust like me.
And finally, they actually have decent sizing. Hallelujah. And options for how much butt coverage you want, or if you need long torso (me!). All of these things really matter. And they make such a difference in how we all feel wearing a swimsuit.
If you’re still here with me, thank you for that. It’s honestly been a journey. What a strange job I have—jumping on a trampoline, showing the back of my legs to the world, and then telling all of you about how it unlocked something in my soul.
Not sure I’m quite ready to waltz around wearing only a swimsuit at a BBQ with my in-laws and coworkers. But give me a couple months.
I might just be back to being as free as this 8 year old girl again.
I’m assuming this has been mostly your experience too? Maybe you’ve escaped it. Or maybe you’ve already found your dream swimsuit, like I have.
But for everyone else? C’mon in. The water’s warm.
We only work with companies we feel passionately about, and this post contains sponsored content. Our opinions are 100% our own, and in fact we only work with brands AFTER we've discovered something of theirs we love. Supporting this content means we all get to keep doing what we're doing here at The Candidly. And keep our jobs. So thanks for that.
Audie Metcalf is the Editor-in-chief of The Candidly, and lives in LA with her family. You can find more of her articles here.
At The Candidly, we try a lot of stuff so you don’t have to. We only recommend things we truly love, and that we think you’ll love, too. All products are chosen independently by our creative team, and all details reflect the price and availability of products at the time of publication. If you buy something we link to, The Candidly may earn a commission.
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