I went to the mall to buy a new swim top last Friday, in anticipation of the weekend I was going to be spending with my family at the beach. I walked into Marks & Spencer and picked out something in my size – a black, scalloped thing with a deep V in the front. I tried it on, liked it, and had the cashier ring it up. No frills or fanfare.

It didn't occur to me until later, when I was recalling my day in a journal post, that the ordinariness of it all was (paradoxically) monumental. There was no anxiety attack in the dressing room, or sick feeling in the pit of my stomach about my size. I didn't have any strong reactions to where we were going on this trip, despite having been a lifelong hater of the beach – sand! sweat! unknown creatures in the water! – and the fashion conventions associated with being somewhere warm and sunny. I was just looking forward to a nice time with my family.

I took my time on the walk between the lounge chair and the point in the sea where I could be shoulder-deep. I got up on the paddle board with my siblings and just laughed when we all lost balance and tipped over. I drank fruit shakes and ate french fries in the shade with my mom between swims, not worrying about how I looked when sitting. My dad and I swam all the way to the roped-off end of the water and back, and it was hard, but I did it, and I didn't hate myself for needing to catch my breath after – after all, I hadn't gone swimming in a long time.

Only a couple of years ago, I would probably only strip and jump in the water once everyone else did, but that second day, I shucked my skirt off and went in on my own while my family was still putting on sunblock. From a distance, I heard my mom say, with something like wonder in her voice, "I'm so glad she likes the beach now."

There are still lots of things I don't like about the beach (see above), but it surprised me how much I enjoyed it this time around. I hadn't realized how often I agonized about how I looked until I wasn't agonizing about it at all. How many other terrible, awful things are not quite so terrible and awful once you shed the incessant need to care?

I'm home now, well-rested and slightly tanned and feeling really good. I want to go swimming again.