Why Women Compete With Each Other
And what we can do instead
I was 18, waiting on the grass in front of the beach, for the bikini contest to start. I peered up at the makeshift stage and saw my friend, a contestant. I was there for support. It was the least I could do after she’d begged me to enter it with her, and I’d refused.
As the contestants strutted, the crowd passed commentary on the young women.
‘Phwoar! Look at the tits on that one!’
‘God! I can’t believe she got up there! She’s delusional.’
‘She’s cute, but her body’s out of proportion. I’d still do her, though.’
A guy I went to school with sidled up next to me, in the crowd. He was also my ex-boyfriend’s brother. We said hello, and he told me I should’ve gotten up there and had a go. I told him it wasn’t my thing.
‘But you’ve lost a lot of weight,’ he pointed out. ‘Why not?’
I shrugged. He went on to inform me that my ass and thighs used to be much bigger, and my new fitness regimen was paying off.
‘Um…thanks?’ I gawked at him, my mouth agape. This guy felt it important to let me know he wanted to see me in my bikini, up on that stage. I wasn’t shy about wearing one; I wore one all the time when I went for a swim. But this was different…
