The Itty Bitty Bikini: Letting Go of Perfectionism One Layer at a Time

A midlife revelation about people-pleasing, trauma, and the courage to be fully seen

I decided to buy a sexy bikini after spending five months in Portugal.

Actually, since my first purchase last weekend, I've bought three bikinis, each with smaller bottoms that reveal more of my body. One cream-colored, one brown, and one in animal print. And honestly, I am so damn proud of myself.

There are a hundred reasons I could have talked myself out of this purchase… and I have done just that for decades. I would judge and simultaneously envy other women who dared to wear string bikinis, trapped in my own prison of perfectionism and fear.

The Culture That Changed Everything

Being here in Portugal, I see the celebration of the feminine form in all its beautiful curves. Women wear flowing skirts and cropped tops. Bellies are exposed across all age groups. Most wonderfully, women feel safe to bare parts of their bodies without fear of catcalls, judgment, or shame.

There's just acceptance. And it blew me away.

I grew up censoring myself, always wearing the title of "good girl" until I exploded.

I believed I had to rise to impossible standards where perfection was the only acceptable goal. This perfectionism wasn't just about looking good, it was armor protecting me from deep childhood trauma wounds that whispered I wasn't enough, wasn't worthy, wasn't safe unless I was flawless.

The Prison of Perfectionism

The veil of perfectionism became my shield, but it also became my prison. Every choice filtered through the question: "What will others think?" Every outfit scrutinized for appropriateness. Every word measured for potential judgment. I lived my life performing for an audience that existed largely in my traumatized mind—voices of criticism and shame that had taken root so early they felt like truth.

This carried into my adult life until it disintegrated with my divorce, when the whole world witnessed my imperfections through the failure of my marriage. The resultant grief, judgment, personal growth, and ultimate blooming became the story of my life's second act.

The unraveling of my marriage was also the unraveling of my perfectionist facade. It exposed the trauma I so desperately wanted to hide from the world with my tap dancing performance of having the perfect family that shattered when my nervous system could simply handle no more.

What I thought I had healed by peeling back the layers of myself a decade ago after my divorce, I realized that I had more layers to heal. It was by becoming a nomad and in letting go of my possessions—by selling or giving away most of them—that I began to see the last holdouts in my healing process, still struggling with the judgment of others and trying to please those around me, even complete strangers.

The Strange Mathematics of Healing

Something remarkable is happening as I heal those last resistant layers of people-pleasing: with each emotional layer I remove, I remove a layer of clothing it seems. It's as if doing the inner work of releasing false beliefs manifests physically in my ability to show more of myself. I'm loosening self-imposed limitations and embracing all of me.

Walking to the beach for coffee one morning, I saw women wearing string bikinis and half-jokingly telling my husband I wished I dared wear one of those suits.

Here's the thing…I've been an athlete since I was 16. I work out daily. I have a toned, athletic body that I invest time in maintaining. And yet, I was terrified to wear this bikini.

Underneath that fear was something deeper: the trauma-learned belief that my body wasn't mine to celebrate. That showing it was dangerous. That being seen fully invited judgment, rejection, or worse. These weren't rational fears—they were echoes of old wounds convincing me safety lay in hiding.

The Moment of Truth

After two coffees, a beach walk and talk about my hidden desires and fears, we headed straight to the shopping area. My husband picked out a sexy cream-colored crocheted number and said, "This one."

I tried it on, feeling nervous looking in the mirror.

The familiar thoughts flooded in: I'm too old. What about this pooch here? My boobs are spilling out. What will others think?

Then I stopped myself. I recognized these voices—they weren't mine. They were echoes of every message I'd received about women's bodies, about worthiness, about what was "appropriate" for someone like me.

I opened the curtain, walked out, and motioned for my husband to look.

He smiled and said, "You look hot."

That became the only voice in my head.

The Ripple Effect

I could have waited for the perfect day, the next beach outing, next week perhaps. Instead, we marched home, I put it on immediately and announced I was going swimming. Within 30 seconds, my husband had his suit on too.

I did it. I wore the damn suit. At 54, I'm wearing the smallest swimsuit I've ever owned.

And you know what?

I'm rocking it.

I loved it so much that I went shopping again the next day, buying an animal print number the Portuguese saleslady said would look great on me. Without hesitation, I said "Yes!" and marched to the counter.

The Deeper Truth

This wasn't just about bikinis. These purchases were invitations to peel back the last layers of perfectionism I'd desperately wrapped myself in. Previously, I'd hesitate to allow such exposure, as if showing more skin revealed more flaws. The opposite proved true…it was because of a fundamental shift in how I felt in my own body.

I'm celebrating this body not necessarily for what it looks like, but for what it has done:

Birthed four humans

Completed 13 marathons

Finished 3 Ironman races

Climbed mountains and swam oceans

Survived trauma and carried me through the darkest nights

Held my grief when my marriage ended

Moved me across oceans to discover who I really am

The Layers We Shed

As a therapist, I know personal growth involves peeling away accumulated layers - some protective, some limiting, and others that no longer serve us. Living as a midlife nomad has challenged me to work through these layers again, but deeper and I invite you to do the same. Are you still living with some of the common layers we wear like clothing:

Conditioned beliefs and expectations - The "shoulds" inherited from family, culture, and society about how we're supposed to live and who we're meant to be.

Fear-based patterns - Layers of avoidance, people-pleasing, perfectionism, or control built as protection from rejection, failure, or vulnerability.

Old identities and roles - Outgrowing versions of ourselves we've been playing—the perpetual good girl, the perfectionist, the trauma survivor who must hide to stay safe.

Emotional armor - Thick skin developed to avoid hurt that also prevents us from experiencing joy, intimacy, and genuine connection.

Perfectionist facades - The need to appear flawless keeps us from being authentic and learning from mistakes.

Each time I put on that bikini now, I choose to trust that I'm safe to be seen. That my body isn't something to be ashamed of or hidden away. That the wounded little girl who learned to make herself small and perfect to survive doesn't have to run my life anymore. And, if you find you are still wearing some of the protective beliefs holding you hostage, perhaps it is time to strip down and consider daring to remove them.

The Real Revelation

The person who most needed to fully see me was me.

Midlife and living in a culture where women are honored and cherished in ways I have never experienced allows me to fully embrace all of myself. By embracing all of me, I am letting all of me be seen… literally and figuratively.

The healing isn't linear. It's not a destination but a daily practice of choosing to see myself with compassion instead of criticism. Of recognizing when old voices of perfectionism and shame try to creep back in, and gently but firmly choosing differently.

It took selling 99% of my possessions and moving across the world to pry off those last layers of self-doubt to discover who I am. Once I released material attachments, the natural next shedding was belief systems I'd desperately clung to. The process of redefining how midlife is "supposed" to look became unexpected embers for personal growth.

Sometimes life strips us of all we've ever known so we can find ourselves.

The Final Truth

I am done dimming my light for fear of being fully seen.

Even the parts I covered up just yesterday I am honoring today. I'm done living through the veil of perfectionism, done letting old wounds dictate how much of myself I'm allowed to show the world.

At 54, I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. And now, literally, I'm ready to bare it.

That cream-colored crocheted string bikini hangs on my patio drying rack, waiting for tomorrow's adventure. It's more than swimwear…it's a symbol of a woman who chose courage over comfort, authenticity over approval, and self-love over self-hiding.

The most radical act of midlife might just be deciding you're worthy of being fully seen, exactly as you are.

P.S. I would love to know your thoughts on how you are finding your authentic song in life and allowing all of you to be fully seen and expressed. Drop me a comment and let’s celebrate the baring of it all!