I’ve beaten the *The Bulge*!

Every year, when the temperatures rise, the little ones are sent off on their summer holidays and life increasingly gives itself over to partial nudity, a fundamental problem arises for a great many people: how do I not feel awkward as hell?

Yes, in a world where people do not body shame each other, where everyone can be whoever they are, where nobody is treated differently and everyone is simply allowed to exist, it would be wonderful. And I long for that day.

But reality is what it is. We live in a very superficial and one dimensional world. We are still afraid of being looked at, and far too many people still follow some utterly absurd standards when it comes to appearance and body shape.

This is one of those rare problems where we are all pretty much the same. Women worry about the circumference of their thighs, men worry about their bellies and the lack of clearly defined muscles. What I find worst of all is that it has now started affecting children too.

When I was a child, nobody gave a damn about what kind of body shape was supposedly fashionable for boys and girls. Maybe that is one of those very rare things that really were better in the past. Who knows.

Some people compensate for these circumstances with defiance, others by adapting. I would place myself somewhere in between.

For me as a trans woman who is not aiming for "the surgery" and is perfectly happy with that, this whole situation comes with one little additional problem, if you want to call it that.

"The bulge."

In everyday life, it is really not an issue. There is underwear specifically designed for that, and as long as you are not wearing leggings, it is basically completely invisible anyway.

I can understand the struggle if you have genital dysphoria, because it can become a very dominant sensation down there when you wear tight clothing. But without that kind of dysphoria, it is basically never a topic in my everyday life. Then it is more about how high the temperatures are going to get that day and whether it might be better to wear a skirt.

In the beginning, I was still extremely diligent about preparing for every possible scenario my anxiety ridden brain could come up with. Over the weeks, months and years, I eventually learned that there was simply absolutely no reason to be afraid.

What I can wholeheartedly recommend to any of my sisters, though, are gaff panties with certain foam padding. They are cheaper than binder panties and provide an extra bit of security when the anxiety gets particularly bad.

I still had a few lying around in the back of my wardrobe, and the other day, when we went to the swimming spot at the local river, I found one of them very useful.

As the old saying goes: never throw anything away, it might come in handy someday.

The Swimsuit

As always, whenever something has even the slightest connection to fashion, there are about two million different variations and versions, and somehow none of them are what you actually want.

You somehow have to find that sweet spot between your own expectations and reality. I have a fairly petite body, but I am no beach goddess either. I barely look my age, which I like, and sports keep me slim, which I also really like about myself. But running around in a tiny bikini is just not my style.

In the end, I went with one bold option and one less bold option.

The bold one is a simple black combination of swim bottoms and a top, while the less daring one is a tankini. That extra bit of fabric gives me another layer of security.

So I can only recommend thinking in terms of different versions and options. Even if that means you have to buy more stuff and dig your way through a ridiculous amount of nonsense.

What I absolutely cannot understand, though, is how difficult it has become to buy reasonably sensible clothes in smaller towns and more rural areas.

Back when I was in my poly relationship, I used to wander through the fashion stores in Munich with my second partner fairly often. As a cis woman, she taught me a few, let's call them "tricks", and I quickly realized that I was actually much more efficient at going on a shopping hunt.

(Sorry, darling, if you're reading this. I hope you had a lovely trip to France! ^^)

But swimwear is a whole different level of hell to shop for.

The sizing is absolutely fucking wild and tells you basically nothing. Regular clothes can already be a guessing game because you never know which brand runs large, which one runs small, when it changed its sizing, why it changed its sizing, or what the hell the number is supposed to mean.

With swimwear, it is basically just guess and hope.

After I had thoroughly exhausted the local shops and was completely fed up, I switched to ordering online. And honestly, the results were much better. With a little effort and one return, I eventually managed to get the two swimsuits I wanted.

The best way to hide "the bulge" actually turned out to be that old gaff panty. What annoyed me slightly was that somebody had apparently thought, "You know what this thing needs? A slit right down the middle."

And that made me unhappy for an entirely different reason. Who the hell wants to put their cameltoe on display for the whole world?

But after giving myself a thorough inspection in the mirror, I came to the conclusion that it was barely noticeable.

Actually, that stupid bulge was the last major thing I was still worried about. After facial hair removal, the changes from hormones and simply the confidence I had gained, there was really only this one thing left that was holding me back.

Every now and then I still struggle with my Adam's apple, yes. But after doing a lot of research and seeing so many very lovely cis women openly showing their own Adam's apples in videos and photos, I am much less bothered by it now.

This fixation on individual body features will make your mind sick in the long run.

And that is also one of the reasons why I am not as active in the trans community anymore as I was a year ago.

It is a walk along a razor's edge.

On the one hand, I want to be supportive and encourage people. On the other hand, constantly reading about terrible experiences and toxic posts can slowly grind away at your own confidence.

From experience, I can say that it feels a little strange at first to go into the water wearing more clothes than just a swimsuit.

But you do not have to start by wearing a swimsuit.

During my training as a lifeguard, I had already practiced what it was like to jump into the water wearing shoes and clothes, to undress in the water and to dive while fully clothed.

At first, the increased resistance you feel in the water is annoying, but it does not pull you down or make swimming impossible.

So if it feels strange at first, that is completely normal.

After all, you have probably never had that much fabric on your body while swimming before.

At least that is how I imagine it for people who have never done it.

What if they stare?

I spent an entire year waiting for the right moment.
And I probably would still be waiting today if I had not eventually made a spontaneous decision and thought, "Yeah. Today. Fuck it. I'm doing it today."

In life, I have generally done pretty well whenever I allowed myself to be spontaneous instead of getting stuck in endless overthinking. It was exactly the same when I first went outside in "girl mode".

I was more terrified than I had ever been in my life, but once it was over, I felt incredibly proud and free. Whenever possible, you get some support.

I have my best friend and my partner. The two of them never get tired of challenging all my horrible doubts and fears and talking some sense into me.

It helps me every single time. That day, my partner and I deliberately waited until evening. The original plan was to take it in stages. First, just walk around there in the swimsuit and have a look at the area.

But eventually I thought that was stupid. Living in fear all the fucking time was making me sick. So I decided that we were going into the water too, and the world could go fuck itself.

Naturally, I was especially nervous. What if people looked at me? I'll tell you something. People always look. Always, always and always. It does not matter when, where or how.

Especially in Germany. Especially in southern Germany. Especially in a village. And especially if you happen to be pretty. In Germany, staring is basically part of our cultural heritage.

People stare here. They gawk. They drill holes into you with their eyes, and then they all smile and politely say hello.

That was how it was when I was a child at the public swimming pool. It was exactly the same this time, and it will still be exactly the same forty years from now.

In Germany, people stare. It has nothing to do with your body, your age, your gender or your thoughts. They just stare.

They even stare at members of their own families. They stare at swans and ducks.

But the closer the object gets to looking like another human being, and the more unfamiliar that person is, the more intensely they stare.

It has absolutely nothing to do with you. Once you understand that, the world becomes a lot less threatening.

The Operation

That evening, I put my swimsuit on at home. I also tied a sarong around my hips, which looked very summery and gave off a nice beach feeling.

That gave me another little bit of security. I already knew that in a village I would probably stand out even more like that than if I had simply walked there naked.

But in this case, it was worth it to me. When I am under a lot of stress, part of my feeling of safety comes from wanting to look a little more fashionable than strictly necessary.

Maybe that is also a certain form of vanity. Whatever it is, I really have to be able to "see" myself in the mirror and feel like the woman I want to see there.

Otherwise, it simply does not work. The problem is finding the balance.

A few percent too much and suddenly you look like the overdressed forty year old trying to pass for twenty and constantly using words associated with younger people completely wrong.

I actually spent a few seconds thinking about putting on makeup.
Yes. While going swimming. Crazy, I know. But that is what an anxiety driven brain does.

Eventually, my rational side won and I abandoned the idea. The same went for wearing jewelry. No reasonably sensible woman is going to put on earrings before going swimming. You learn that one the hard way as a girl, when your favorite pieces disappear into the depths of a lake. At the latest, you learn it then.

Overwhelmed by the nervous feeling that I had forgotten something, I padded the driver's seat of the car with a thick towel because I really did not want to change clothes at the swimming spot.

Then we drove the five minutes to the river. It is actually a pretty little spot. You can really see the effects of the drought, though. The river was extremely low.

Basically, you had to walk about five meters before you could even get your feet wet. The grass where you would normally lie down was scorched and brown. There were a few children playing on the other side of the little bay, while a larger group had taken over a bench and a big wooden table.

Most people had already left. There were maybe twenty people left there with us. As usual, as we arrived and walked past while casually chatting with each other, we were stared at intensely.

Heads turned.
Even while still talking to the person next to them, both people would turn their heads like meerkats. Like those hopelessly obedient soldiers who have to stare after their commanding officer during an inspection.

I could feel some of the looks, but I also noticed that nobody was actually staring. My partner remained deliberately calm, and I could not see any tension or alarm in their face either. In fact, I could see the nervousness disappearing from their features.

They put the towels down on a rock and we picked our way over the sharp stones toward the water like two storks. Everything was covered in dried aquatic plants and it smelled like lake water.

The river itself was actually very warm, which surprised me. The heatwave really had dramatic effects, even on running water. Before I had really processed what was happening, I was already in the water and paddling toward deeper territory.

For a while, I could not bring myself to look back toward the shore because I was afraid of seeing a group of laughing or gawking people. Only when I truly realized that I had just gone swimming in a public swimming spot again for the first time in almost twenty years did I have to swallow hard and feel a tear forming in my eye.

After spending several seconds intensely admiring the shapes of the clouds in the sky, the tear disappeared again and I calmed down a little. The last thing I needed right now was an emotional breakdown caused by happiness.

And yet, the certainty was beautiful.
The certainty that I was free now.
The last hurdle had fallen.

The final thing standing in my way of moving through my life completely freely had been overcome. We splashed around for a while longer. The bun I had tied my hair into actually held up, although my hair still got wet. Eventually, I stopped caring.

I had not really expected to make it through this whole operation with reasonably dry hair anyway. In the end, we swam for about fifteen minutes, and I was the happiest woman on the planet.

When I got out of the water, I was briefly afraid that everything might not be sitting where it was supposed to. But yes. Would you believe it? Basically, I could have done a cartwheel and nobody would have stared.

Well, obviously they would have stared. But only because they would have been thinking, "Why the hell does this woman suddenly need to do a cartwheel? Is she nuts?"

We trudged back to the car, dripping wet. I sat down on my towel and then we puttered home. It had been completely uneventful and absolutely smooth. But once I got home, I had to sit on the bathroom floor in front of the mirror for quite a while.

I cried with happiness when I looked at Nicole in the mirror and she told me: "Now you've done it." Yes, I talk to myself in the third person sometimes. So this is what everyday freedom feels like.

Incredible.Beautiful.
Like a distant dream that somehow came true.