Mrs. Franzos: Swimming at Chateau Marmont

Sunday, September 30, 2018

photo: Joshua Franzos

I can count at least four times now that I've booked a vacation and forgotten to pack a swimsuit. But if travel teaches us anything, it teaches us to roll with the punches and the delays, and an ever growing swim suit collection. I found my camo Melissa Odabash Swimsuit in the window of Santa Monica boutique, Hiptique. The cut and the fabric camoflage and flatter in the best ways possible.

photo: Joshua Franzos

As you may know, I've been dealing with infertility. I have been advised to do (or not do) a lot of things, including gaining some body fat in an effort for optimal hormonal balance. Part of me is really starting to think it's busy work, just a delay tactic and another example of pinning "you must be doing something wrong" on the woman. Then another part of me thinks, what if that really is the thing holding you up? Then enter thirty other recommended things that you could be doing or not doing that could be THE THING standing in the way between you and a chubby baby in your arms. So you do or not do the things and your thoughts for the entire day are consumed by the doing or not doing of things (see my last post.) Welcome to my neurotic and unsustainable world. Anyway, it hasn't been that hard to gain weight as avoiding the gym is easy when progesterone supplementation makes you feel like a human slug. Or when getting your monthly period feels like a dementor sucking all the optimism out of you. Ergo, I have gained some weight and because of that I certainly did not have any plans or desire to do a swimsuit blog post. Come to think of it...I've never done a swimsuit blog post... Even at my stomach's flattest, largest thigh gappest, wrinkle free facest...I don't know about you, but I never seemed to be good enough or fit enough to attempt it. There's always an excuse isn't there? In retrospect, that's an utter shame and lately, I've had quite enough of not being enough. Or too this. Or too that. Societal expectations are often so ingrained that we create our own sort of Azkaban, but it just so happens that I'm running low on fucks to give.

Photo: Joshua Franzos

photo: Joshua Franzos

I do not know what the future holds for me, but it's starting to sink in that there may be some experiences I just may never be intimate with. In understanding that, I know that all other experiences that come my way I will wholeheartedly devour like a hungry lioness. I don't mean to minimize or make this emotional journey I've been on sound so logical and mechanically processed as to become a trite tale of making lemonade from my lemons. It's certainly not and never will be so neatly packaged as to conveniently fit into a blog post; it has literally filled volumes trying to wrap my head around it. However, (here comes the bloggy hook) when the stars align and you get a classic pin-up bathing suit and you're staying at the legendary Hollywood hotel, Chateau Marmont, and they upgrade you to a cottage next to the pool...you let your hair down, toss your green tasseled room keys on the lounge chair, have a poolside bourbon with your husband, and let yourself forget your self imposed cages. Where does the confidence come from you ask? It's called having a wardrobe to help get you in character, it's called having a director of photography that knows your best angles, and also it's called acting, darling. It's the Tinseltown way. Promise me you'll do it so well you believe it too.