I’ll paint the scenario. One of which I witnessed in real time.
“Ring, ring, ring… next guest in line,” I repeat it over and over, lost in the rhythm of my workflow.
“Grab one more item for our buy one, get one free deal!” The next guest steps up. Ring, ring, ring.
Nothing seems to break the flow. A group of girls approaches my cash wrap.
“Do you have the Frankies Bikinis collection?” the lead girl asks.
“Yes, we do,” I said, smiling. Her friends squeal, excited, but one girl barely reacts.
“I’ll go to Macy’s,” she mutters. “They’ll have my size.”
My head snaps up. I watch her walk away defeated, empty-handed, while her friends rush back, arms full, buzzing with excitement.
Who Decided What a ‘Summer Body’ Looks Like?
I remember the disappointment in that girl’s tone because it’s a feeling I’ve shared, and one so many other women know all too well. Walking into a store and realizing you can’t always get the cutest swimsuit because the plus-size section is smaller, less colorful, and less fun than the “normal” racks. I see that same quiet defeat in mothers who feel their bodies have betrayed them, who mourn the figures they used to have.
The typical “summer body” standard is narrow, unrealistic, and everywhere. It’s often portrayed as a slim but toned, flat-stomached, blemish-free, and effortlessly confident woman. This image is repeated across ads, social media, and store displays. It leaves little room for softer, changing, and aging bodies. There’s no longer room for simply being different. Instead of celebrating variety, it quietly sets expectations, suggesting that only certain bodies are worthy of being seen, admired, or even comfortable in the summer heat.
When you look closer, it becomes clear that these standards weren’t created with women in mind. They were shaped by men. The summer body isn’t really about comfort or self-expression; it seems to be about being looked at, evaluated, and approved. It turns a season that should feel freeing into one where women are expected to shrink, smooth, and perfect themselves just to be outside. Instead of existing for ourselves, our bodies are framed as something to be seen. But bodies should be designed for living less in the moment and more for fitting into someone else’s gaze.
The Teen Magazine notes that the modern ‘summer body’ ideal can be traced back to 1960s women’s magazines, which pushed weight-loss products and body enhancers to enforce a rigid standard of beauty.
This year clearly missed the memo to leave the 1960s beauty standards in the past. Somehow, that narrow idea of the “perfect” body snuck its way through the decades, resurfacing every summer like it had a recurring subscription.
We didn’t sign up for it, and honestly, we’re ready to cancel.
Summer looks good on every BODy
I know it’s easier said than done. Trust me, I’ve been in the fitting room, trying to bank on the 20th swimsuit I put on, while I sweat under the lights, overthinking every angle. I’ve overheated at the beach because I was too afraid to take off my cover-up. I’ve seen it when I’m measuring a girl for her cup size, and she thinks she isn’t worthy of an in-store Victoria’s Secret experience.
We’ve seen more inclusivity in intimates, but swimwear and summer still feel like they’re stuck in a “Baywatch-style” fantasy. The pieces are shrinking, coverage is disappearing, and we have to ask: why? Why does summer have to be reduced to a bikini post? Why does it keep cutting down female agency, turning a season of sun and freedom into a performance?
Ladies, we aren’t performers; we are authentic. It’s time for companies to stop sexualizing women to sell products and for social media to stop fueling a toxic “what’s trending” culture. Reality check: a caloric deficit is not trending. We need equal representation across every ad, every rack, every campaign. The summer body doesn’t need to shrink, tone, or conform. Summer’s coming, and the old standards are already melting.