Tomorrow I’m on my way. Hawaii bound. You guys seriously made me feel much better yesterday — I’m TRYING to relax. Rest assured, I’m fully planning on taking some of your advice and having a few cocktails on the flights.
I have to say, the only thing I’m NOT looking forward to once I actually get to the island (besides missing MP) is putting on the swimsuit. It’s been an ordeal trying to find one the past few months.
I resorted to catalog shopping after spending an afternoon in Old Navy, trying on suits designed for 15 year-old freestanding boobs. Boobs that have never seen an underwire. Boobs that consider a small piece of triangular cloth and some string, support.
Not to mention suits designed for 15 year-old cellulite-free boy hips. Hips that have not yet earned growth-spurt stretch marks. Hips that have not spread and supported extra lbs and endured childbirth. Breeders.
Clearly, even CONSIDERING a suit of this nature was a mistake of epic proportions. Literally. And when MP patted my stomach in the dressing room and said when SHE grew up she was going to have a BIG belly like mine, any miniscule hope of pulling off a bikini disappeared quicker than a Twinkie at Grammy’s house.
So, the catalog shopping. I LOVED this. (Don’t have a pic of the top.)
The ad copy read: This Boy Bottom sits on the hip and is surprisingly flattering on both women with curvy hips and women with straight hips.
I call BS. Show me one woman, with the exception of this catalog’s triathlete models, who can pull off the boy short. I’m a sucka.
Then I tried this.
Not bad, but back to the big belly thing. Goodbye bikini. *sniff
And finally, this modest little twosome. We have a winner. Kinda.
I came out of the deal with a tankini top that works. I’ll be mixing and matching with some black bottoms from my ugly old Speedo two-piece. They must be 10 years old, but they’re black, and they’ll match.
I have A LOT of returns to make.
It boils down to this.
Tits and Ass. Remember A Chorus Line?
Why do I even care? I’ll be with five of my oldest friends. We’re all the same age. I’m sure we’ll ALL have the suit issue. Maybe. The answer lies somewhere between vanity and modesty.
And really, it’s a moot point. Because the glare from my mayo white legs will surely blind every poor schmo on the beach unlucky enough to cross my path.
Quick, someone make me a drink.