Adulthood has shown me that some feelings are near-universal — so too is the sense that you’re the only one experiencing them. This is especially true about the angst I’ve felt around bathing suits. It all just feels wrong: If the problem isn’t that my body has changed proportions, then it must be that the nylon has been shrinking or expanding while sitting in my sock drawer for 10 months out of the year. Most swimsuits I’ve worn have made me feel one of those big salamis at an Italian deli, all wrapped up in crisscrossing rope and twine. Growing up, it seemed like other girls’ bikinis clung to their bodies’ curves and angles just right. I felt like the only one aware of the elastic’s strong hold on my thigh. However, when I came out as queer and developed relationships with people in the LGBTQ+ community,