My granddaughter turned 19 last weekend and decided to celebrate with a big pool party. Music, floats, sunshine — the whole thing.
A few days before the party, she showed up at my house with a mischievous smile and a tiny shopping bag in her hand.
“Nana,” she said, pulling out a bright, cheerful bikini, “this is for you.”
I burst out laughing.
“Girl, there’s no way,” I told her. “Those days are long gone.”
I hadn’t worn a bikini in years. Decades, if I’m being honest. My body isn’t the same as it was at 25 — or even 45. I’ve got soft spots, stretch marks, and stories written into my skin.
But she wouldn’t let it go.
“Come on,” she insisted. “It’ll be iconic.”
I rolled my eyes. But later that night, I kept thinking about it. Why not? It was a pool party. I wasn’t walking a runway. I wasn’t entering a beauty contest. I was celebrating my granddaughter.
So on the day of the party, I dug out an old bikini from the back of my drawer — not the one she bought (that was a little too ambitious), but one I felt brave enough to wear.
I looked in the mirror and took a deep breath.
And then I decided: I’m doing this.
I walked into that backyard with sunscreen on my shoulders and my head held high.
And you know what?
The world didn’t end.
I spent the afternoon floating around in a big inflatable ring, reapplying sunscreen, passing out juice boxes, chatting with the other guests, and laughing with my grandkids. I wasn’t dancing on tables. I wasn’t posing for attention. I was just… there. Enjoying myself.
A few people glanced my way — sure. But most people were too busy having their own fun to care.
And my granddaughter?
She beamed every time she looked at me.
At one point she swam over, wrapped her arms around me, and whispered, “Nana, you look like a boss.”
That alone made it worth it.
But after the party, things took a turn.
My daughter pulled me aside, her jaw tight.
“We need to talk,” she said.
I honestly thought something serious had happened.
Instead, she crossed her arms and said, “Everyone was staring at you. You looked like you were auditioning for Love Island.”
I blinked.
“What?”
She went on about how I embarrassed her. How I was “trying too hard.” How the attention should’ve been on her daughter — not me.
I was stunned.
I hadn’t tried to steal attention. I hadn’t made a speech, done a cannonball contest, or posted glamorous selfies. I literally sat in a floatie and enjoyed the sunshine.
But apparently, that was enough to upset her.
Maybe in her eyes, grandmothers are supposed to sit in the shade with a towel draped over their knees. Maybe we’re supposed to fade politely into the background once we reach a certain age.
But here’s the thing:
I felt good.
I felt alive.
I felt included.
And I refuse to believe that joy has an age limit.
Was I the oldest woman in a bikini at that party? Absolutely.
Did I look 19? Of course not.
Did I look like myself — confident, smiling, fully present?
Yes.
And if that made someone uncomfortable, maybe that discomfort doesn’t belong to me.
My granddaughter wasn’t embarrassed. She was proud.
My daughter may have seen an aging woman “trying too hard.”
But I saw a grandmother refusing to sit on the sidelines of her own life.
So to all the nanas out there wondering if it’s “too late” to wear the swimsuit, join the game, jump in the pool, or take up space:
Do it.
Life is too short to shrink yourself so others can feel comfortable.
If wearing a bikini at 60, 70, or beyond makes you smile — wear it.
Float in the pool.
Laugh too loud.
Take the picture.
Be the memory.
Because one day, your granddaughter won’t remember who wore what.
She’ll remember that Nana showed up — fully, boldly, and without apology.
