Bombshells of Summer

As this year has run, and as I've attested, there has been a bought of Lupus hell and body image horror.  Okay, probably more horror on my end  . . . but still.  No matter how secure a woman is, shit still creeps in.  Everyone, and I mean, everyone has had it at come point.  

With that being said, last summer I bought Heather's first pattern--that Bombshell--and some inexpensive black swimsuit material to try it out.  Then I lost the will to scrutinize myself in the mirror, in a swimsuit.  I mean, come on . . . who in the hell enjoys that torture? Even at home, in decent lighting? 

So, it sat.  On my shelf.  Glaring at me like a maladjusted bitch ready to pounce.  

And then I found myself inventorying my patterns and fabric.  In that midst (which the patterns are nearly half cataloged and the fabric is all noted and marked), I told myself I had to do this.  Had to do it by summer's end.  Not the calendar end, but the commercial end . . . as in Labor Day Weekend.  

Why? What's the point of buying something and not using it? More so, I make my own knickers, camis, and jeans (yes, jeans).  A bathing suit can't be that hard (it was not).  The emotional trauma is just a psychological mole hill.  

So . . . 

I made a damned bathing suit!

And . . . it stayed on in the waves of the Atlantic!

Stayed the fuck on!

And since I'm feeling ballsy, here's some pics (the whole body view) of me in it.  

(FYI, I had just come up from being drug along the sand . . . and that shit is still on and not riding up my butt!)

And now, let's move on to less abrasive images, shall we? 

Construction!

I'm a 12 on top and a 16 on the bottom.  And . . . in all fairness, I think I'm just a 12 all over.  I used 3/4" seam allowances, in lieu of the 1/2" ones, and on the butt seam I used a full 1".  This mostly comes from the stretch of the fabric . . . point: suit is beautifully drafted, but as any sewist will note the fabric more often than note determines the true size.  Also, the shape of my ass defines the cut.  If I had a flat/flatter ass I'd probably be a straight on 16.  My flat on the sides and protruding the back makes the shape different . . . that's all.  

No, no rear view.  I braved the waters giving the full on.  One step at a time baby.  

Now that we've gotten personal with me sizing and rump shape . . .

I made view B, as I saw the majority of folks made View A.  Why be normal, I say.  On that note, I sewed a three inch section between the breasts.  How? Overlapped the seams, with a keyhole at the bottom, and used the standard zig zag.  Sewing that seam enabled me to wear said suit in the ocean, body surf, and jog a bit.  No falling out.  

Oh, added breast cups.  Simple and easy is this part! I just laid the breast pieces on me (the lining) and put the top seam 3/4" over my shoulder seam on my shirt, pinned said cup, zig-zagged, and then placed a second layer of lining over the cup sandwiching it with lining, then attached it to the main fabric.  

And . . . I highly recommend cutting this with a rotary (I was at my Mom's, so yea  . . . different mat and cutter).  I layed it out section by section because A) I could and B) it really did expedite it. Believe it or not, from PDF taping to wear it was about seven hours.  

And while commencing the American shopiday drinkiday holiday I finished my fifth half marathon.  While I was on path to finish in slightly under three hours the variables of Lupus and racing played havoc.  Two weeks before, near to the day, my plaq was doubled so . . . yea, I've been in the winding hell of plaq side effects.  This go around: nausea, headaches, and those plaq farts that seem to have people in stitches (and Google searchers . . . ha ha ha).  Eh, the bulk of the effects are over, and I'm back to the plaq + Lupus normal side effect: thirsty like an alcoholic in a brewery.  So, water life for me it is.  

Though, that race saw the side effects of plaq plus near sweltering and hell levels of humidity, plus three miles without a water stop and my own water bottle ran out (Why, Rock n Roll Marathon Series? Why do you do that in Virginia Beach, knowing the weather down there?!), caused me to experience a race first.  I tossed my cookies.  I also slowed my pace twice to oblige my running partner, as I'm not mean.  So . . . I didn't PR.  Around mile nine I made peace with it, as I usually go irrationally insane for a moment believing the race people are fucking with my head and mileage count.  At mile 13.1 knowing I came in under four hours I was happy.  Oddly, I didn't loose my mind this time.  In five half marathons, two distinctly different courses . . . So, another upside is that I found a happy zen-zone? Yea, we know that won't last long.  

Oh yea, I ran in a skirt this time too.  Guess what? No chaffing either.  Usually I have chaffed arms, breasts, feet . . . none.  Not even feet blisters from drenched shoes (read a volunteer doused my shoes).

Pre-race, on the way to the start.  Jealous? Should be.  And, that's no filter. 

And, one last shot of that suit.  Lupus rash to boot.  Oh well.