My granddaughter just turned 19 and decided to celebrate with a pool party.
And guess what?
She picked out a bikini for me.
I laughed when she showed it to me. “Girl, there’s no way,” I told her. I hadn’t worn a bikini in years. Decades, if I’m being honest. I certainly wasn’t feeling “bikini ready.”
But she kept insisting.
“Nana, you’d look amazing.”
At first, I brushed it off. But later I thought… why not?
It was a sunny day. My whole family would be there. The kids would be splashing around. And I didn’t want to be the grandma sitting stiffly in a lawn chair with a towel wrapped around her legs while life happened ten feet away.
So I pulled out an old bikini I hadn’t touched in years.
And I wore it.
I didn’t strut.
I didn’t pose.
I didn’t try to be twenty-five again.
I floated in the pool. I reapplied sunscreen. I handed out juice boxes. I laughed when the kids splashed me. I enjoyed the warmth on my shoulders and the sound of my grandkids shrieking with joy.
For the first time in a long while, I felt free.
But after the party, my daughter pulled me aside.
Her face was tight.
“We need to talk,” she said.
I thought maybe something had happened. Maybe someone got hurt.
But no.
She crossed her arms and said, “Everyone was staring at you. You looked like you were auditioning for Love Island.”
I blinked.
She kept going.
“It was embarrassing. You were trying too hard. People were paying attention to you instead of your daughter.”
I was stunned.
Trying too hard?
All I did was exist in a swimsuit.
I hadn’t danced on tables.
I hadn’t flirted with anyone.
I literally sat in a floatie shaped like a flamingo and enjoyed the sunshine.
Yes, maybe I could’ve worn a one-piece.
Maybe I could’ve stayed in the shade with a towel over my knees like some kind of apology.
But why?
Why should joy come with an age limit?
The truth is, I had a wonderful time.
And the best moment of all?
My granddaughter came up to me before everyone left, wrapped her arms around me, and whispered:
“Nana, you looked like a boss.”
That meant more to me than any side-eye or whisper ever could.
Maybe I did look a little ridiculous.
Maybe some people stared.
But I refuse to shrink myself just because I’ve collected a few more birthdays.
If my confidence makes someone uncomfortable, that’s not a scandal.
That’s a mirror.
So to all the nanas out there:
Wear the bikini.
Get in the pool.
Laugh too loud.
Take up space.
Life is too short to sit on the sidelines worrying about who’s watching.
And if someone’s upset because you dared to feel good in your own skin?
Well…
That’s not your problem.
