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You twist and turn, inspecting your reflection with narrow eyes as your head bopped to the rhythm of the upbeat pop song blasting from the speakers.
The bikini top you have on fits more snug than you’d been expecting, your chest spilling out a bit around your underarms. The bottoms, however, fit well. Snug, but not uncomfortable. You’d opted for a high waisted style, not quite ready to flaunt your post-baby body to the world. The gold and red pattern contrasted beautifully with your brown skin, the rose gold jewels on the straps accenting the style perfectly. Still, you felt your chest tighten as you focused in on the excess skin around your middle and the way your breasts hung a bit lower than before.
You’d never been small by any means, and it hadn’t been easy getting to that point of saying “fuck society” but with time you’d learned to love and appreciate you body. And to take care of it. You’d maintained your regular, consistent workout routine while pregnant, making adjustments when necessary as you’d gotten further along. But at times, you still found yourself giving in to society’s beauty standards and silently hoping your body wouldn’t change too drastically.
Then Makeba had arrived in a bundle of beauty and joy and for a while, all your superficial insecurities and worries became completely meaningless.
But now, standing in the dimly lit fitting room, they were starting to come back with vengeance.
You adjusted the straps again before sighing heavily. It was now or never.
You slowly opened the fitting room door, peeking out into the hall area. Seeing a couple of moms waiting on their daughters, you shrunk back to hide behind the door and craned your head a bit so your voice would carry around the wall separating you from where Erik was seated. “Erik.”
You heard the faint sounds of cooing and awwws and knew Makeba was once again stealing hearts. “Erik,” you hissed louder.
“Did you hear that,” he whispered dramatically. “Did you hear Mama calling? Let’s go see Mama.” You smile instinctively as Makeba gurgles back at him and he pops up around the corner from where’d he been sitting outside the entrance. “What’s up?”
“Come closer.” You refuse to admit you’re whining, body hidden behind the door to shield yourself.
He chuckles. “Baby, it’s a women’s fitting room, you know I ain’t allowed inside. C’mon, just open the door and show me.” He bounces Makeba gently with one arm as the baby plays with the locs falling into his face.
“Fine.” You sigh in resignation before stepping back and pulling the door wider. “What do you think about this one?”
He raises an eyebrow, shifting his weight. “Shit, I think you look hot as fuck.”
An abrupt laugh escapes you and you cover your mouth embarrassed. “The top is a little tight, I think. But I love the color and design.”
“Top looks good to me,” he shrugs and tilts his head.
“That’s because you don’t have boobs. This,” you gesture to the spillage on the sides, “is not supposed to be happening. And it’s uncomfortable as hell.” You spot the fitting room attendant out of the corner of your eye. “Excuse me, hi. Can I get this top one size up?” She, Rebecca you remember her introducing herself as earlier, pops over, her curly red hair bouncing, and eyes the top and tag quickly.
“Sure, give me a quick second and I’ll grab it for you!”
You thank her as she slips away and turn back to Erik. “You really think it looks good?” Your voice is meek and filled with uncertainty.
Erik’s face softens. “Course, ma. Lookin’ fine as fuck. How you feel about it though?”
You bite your lip, stepping back to once again gaze at your reflection. “I like it,” you answer tentatively. “I’m gonna try some others.” Rebecca returns, handing you the hanger with a polite smile.
A few minutes later, you’re standing in a bright turquoise one piece with cut outs in the side that make the suit form a triangular shape in the front. You tie the strings around your neck and adjust the suit so it isn’t digging into your thighs too much. After a bit of maneuvering, you nod satisfied and open the door to see Erik still standing with a squirming Makeba. “Hey,” you call out before striking a cute pose. “How about this one?”
Makeba reaches out her chubby arms, fingers grasping aimlessly as she babbles at you, making you smile widely.
Erik laughs. “I think she likes it. You think Mama looks pretty?” He tickles Makeba gently and her squeals echo throughout the fitting room. “Two out of three; you outvoted, baby,” he says, winking at you.
You chuckle, but your reflection has you pausing. You tug at the material, suddenly not liking how the stretch marks showed in the cutouts. Your smile fades and before you can plaster a fake one back on, Erik’s speaking.
“Ay, stop worrying about all that shit.” He waves his hand nonchalantly. “Ain’t nobody in their right mind gonna look at you and think anything bad.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Erik,” you can’t quell the annoyance bubbling in your voice. “First, you’re a man. Second, your body is literally chiseled to perfection!”
He rolls his eyes, maneuvering Makeba easily in his arms as she starts to fuss. “Why you don’t believe me?” He spots Rebecca and another employee with jumbo twists fixed in a bun atop her head fixing clothes on a rack and talking amongst themselves. “Hold up. Hey!” They turn to you both, eyebrows raised. “Hey, can y’all please tell her how amazing this look on her. She ain’t taking my word for it.”
“Erik, please,” you groan, face burning as the girls come over.
“He’s right. You look amazing! And I’m not just saying that so you buy it,” Rebecca insists. “Honestly, it fits you perfectly.”
“Yeah, that color goes so well with your skin tone.” The other girl, Miriam according to her name tag, pipes up. “We’re about the same complexion and I have the same one and always get compliments on it.”
You wanna protest, but they sound so genuine and you feel a warmth spreading in your chest.
“See, I told you. And if anybody got something else to say then fuck them niggas.” Erik kisses his teeth and you giggle when a middle aged white woman passing by shoots him an uncomfortable look. “They don’t know shit.”
You feel yourself get teary at your man’s brash, yet reassuring words. “Thank you, baby.”
“The red and gold one from before was nice, too,” Rebecca adds encouragingly.
You try to hide a sniffle. “I haven’t worn a swimsuit since before I was pregnant so I’m pretty nervous about it,” you admit to them. “Everything fits so differently now. I had to buy a whole new collection of bras because I went up almost two cup sizes. It was a nightmare.”
You hear Erik mumble to himself. “Not for me.” He only grins at the glare you send him.
“I had the same issue when I had my son,” Miriam nods in sympathy. “Went from a B to a D. Most of my closet became completely worthless,” she lets out a good natured laugh and smiles at Erik and Makeba. “It’s worth it though.”
Erik is bouncing Makeba and patting her back as he rocks a bit on his feet. “See, and Mama didn’t wanna believe us.” He looks at you teasingly. “We been trying to tell her this whole time. Haven’t we, Makeba? We tried to tell her.” She coos, trying to imitate his words. “Uh-huh, you’re right. She does look gorgeous.”
You almost want to record the moment, at least to have proof of Erik’s softness for blackmail purposes. But for now, you’re content with tucking it away as a happy memory. “Yeah, it is worth it.”