Sooooo.... I went to the mall last night. I was feeling pretty darn groovy, as a) I had parked the girl with the man, b) I had Sar & Coreen with me (or rather, Coreen had us, as she was driving), & c) I had just booked the family a cheap Cheap CHEAP direct flight to Nassau in April. Oh yeah, we're going to the Bahamas for my daughter's birthday. How oil-trash nouveau-riche do we sound? Anyways. I was hitting the mall to 1) return jeans & 2) try some jeans on with a proper audience.
.
In the change room: "Interesting.... not sure about the front pockets... turn around." I complied. "No! Bad butt! Bad butt! No!" "Oh thank god," I said, "Honesty. I knew I was right to be skeptical of the commission sales-girls."
.
As I was walking down the mall, I was hit but a sudden shock of horror. Literally. I don't think I'd ever had one of those before. Sudden. Shock. Of Horror. Yup. I need a new swimsuit. Gyarrrrrgh... my last “new” swimsuit is actually Sarah's swimsuit that she bought for $10 at the Army & Navy in Edmonton.* It’s cute, but it's old... and getting that translucent butt-wear thing that swimsuits get. Ladies, I know you know what I mean. Men, are you reading this? Really? Wow. Well, don't worry your manly heads, it's endemic to Lycra swimwear. (If you wear Speedos, then you know what I mean.)
.
Realizing my shock of horror, I immediately threw myself on Sarah & Coreen’s mercy. “Okay! Let’s go swimsuit shop.” I thought it was best to get it over with – quick band aid rip style. It wasn’t until I was in the dressing room, struggling into the first of the bikinis that Sar helped to pick out, that I realized… I was wearing comfy underwear. Big, cute, comfy underwear. At least, they were cute by themselves or with a t-shirt to sleep in while camping. But hanging out over the swim bottoms? A little ugly… A lot ugly.
.
I persevered. Sarah gladly fumbled through millions of swimsuits for me, & Coreen sat in the fitting room area, & was the voice of reason to Sarah’s “Hey! It’s got stripes AND polka dots! How cute is that?” It wasn’t even that demoralizing- the ugly underwear, stuffed not-so-subtly into the swim togs, let me externalize my natural swim-wear anxiety on to them. Good sports, those knickers. I was a good sport, too, & tried everything on. Coreen & Sarah were incredibly sporting, by putting up with & encouraging the whole deal.
.
Weirdly enough, I found two swimsuits that I liked. I liked them enough to buy them both – after Sarah & Coreen both said “Buy them both – you’re gone for 10 days, when did you last buy a swimsuit, prorate them over five years.” I realized they were right, & did so.
.
No, you don’t get to see pictures – you'll have to wait for holiday pics. They’re cool though – one is a retro-50’s-ish bikini – black top & bottoms, with a wide red polka dot belt. The other is a black bikini with a lighter snake-print trim, & make me think of the booty girls in the music videos. Not that I’m built like a booty girl, or can even move like one, or anything. I think it’s the snake-print that does it.
.
The man is plagued & opted for the out I gave him – namely – I will try them on for him this weekend, when he is feeling better, & can muster the appropriate lustful response.
.Hmm… lacking an appropriate segue, may I insert here my list of things to do today: I) vacuum II) bank app’t III) grocery shop IV) make supper, after deciding WHAT to make for supper. I’m frankly out of ideas. Even if I listen to my instincts & eat the rest of the bag of Oreos, I still have to feed the man & Amoryn something….
.
(Incidentally, I am INCREDIBLY excited about our vacation! So excited! I'm really just burbling incoherently & waving my arms, which is why the bulk of this post has been about the swimsuits, which are cool, yeah, and easier to articulate, but eee!! Bahamas! International tax-haven, here we come!)
.
.
*She had fortuitously packed two swimsuits because I had neglected to pack ANY when we went to the Middle East. I also didn’t pack any bras. Let me tell you, bra shopping in Syria, she is a strange, strange thing.*
.
**I’m a much better traveler now. Honest. I can even make it to Ikea without locking Amoryn in the car.***
.
*** Although I did lock her in the jeep the other night. But the jeep was off, & in the garage, & the spare key was to hand. Easy mistake to make. Easy mistake to fix.****
.
****Hard mistake to believe or forget, if you’re my husband.
.
In the change room: "Interesting.... not sure about the front pockets... turn around." I complied. "No! Bad butt! Bad butt! No!" "Oh thank god," I said, "Honesty. I knew I was right to be skeptical of the commission sales-girls."
.
As I was walking down the mall, I was hit but a sudden shock of horror. Literally. I don't think I'd ever had one of those before. Sudden. Shock. Of Horror. Yup. I need a new swimsuit. Gyarrrrrgh... my last “new” swimsuit is actually Sarah's swimsuit that she bought for $10 at the Army & Navy in Edmonton.* It’s cute, but it's old... and getting that translucent butt-wear thing that swimsuits get. Ladies, I know you know what I mean. Men, are you reading this? Really? Wow. Well, don't worry your manly heads, it's endemic to Lycra swimwear. (If you wear Speedos, then you know what I mean.)
.
Realizing my shock of horror, I immediately threw myself on Sarah & Coreen’s mercy. “Okay! Let’s go swimsuit shop.” I thought it was best to get it over with – quick band aid rip style. It wasn’t until I was in the dressing room, struggling into the first of the bikinis that Sar helped to pick out, that I realized… I was wearing comfy underwear. Big, cute, comfy underwear. At least, they were cute by themselves or with a t-shirt to sleep in while camping. But hanging out over the swim bottoms? A little ugly… A lot ugly.
.
I persevered. Sarah gladly fumbled through millions of swimsuits for me, & Coreen sat in the fitting room area, & was the voice of reason to Sarah’s “Hey! It’s got stripes AND polka dots! How cute is that?” It wasn’t even that demoralizing- the ugly underwear, stuffed not-so-subtly into the swim togs, let me externalize my natural swim-wear anxiety on to them. Good sports, those knickers. I was a good sport, too, & tried everything on. Coreen & Sarah were incredibly sporting, by putting up with & encouraging the whole deal.
.
Weirdly enough, I found two swimsuits that I liked. I liked them enough to buy them both – after Sarah & Coreen both said “Buy them both – you’re gone for 10 days, when did you last buy a swimsuit, prorate them over five years.” I realized they were right, & did so.
.
No, you don’t get to see pictures – you'll have to wait for holiday pics. They’re cool though – one is a retro-50’s-ish bikini – black top & bottoms, with a wide red polka dot belt. The other is a black bikini with a lighter snake-print trim, & make me think of the booty girls in the music videos. Not that I’m built like a booty girl, or can even move like one, or anything. I think it’s the snake-print that does it.
.
The man is plagued & opted for the out I gave him – namely – I will try them on for him this weekend, when he is feeling better, & can muster the appropriate lustful response.
.Hmm… lacking an appropriate segue, may I insert here my list of things to do today: I) vacuum II) bank app’t III) grocery shop IV) make supper, after deciding WHAT to make for supper. I’m frankly out of ideas. Even if I listen to my instincts & eat the rest of the bag of Oreos, I still have to feed the man & Amoryn something….
.
(Incidentally, I am INCREDIBLY excited about our vacation! So excited! I'm really just burbling incoherently & waving my arms, which is why the bulk of this post has been about the swimsuits, which are cool, yeah, and easier to articulate, but eee!! Bahamas! International tax-haven, here we come!)
.
.
*She had fortuitously packed two swimsuits because I had neglected to pack ANY when we went to the Middle East. I also didn’t pack any bras. Let me tell you, bra shopping in Syria, she is a strange, strange thing.*
.
**I’m a much better traveler now. Honest. I can even make it to Ikea without locking Amoryn in the car.***
.
*** Although I did lock her in the jeep the other night. But the jeep was off, & in the garage, & the spare key was to hand. Easy mistake to make. Easy mistake to fix.****
.
****Hard mistake to believe or forget, if you’re my husband.
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