So anyway, when I'm at the beach with them, I can usually count on going for walks and occasionally wading into the waves and even sometimes swimming in the waves. And all of those things require wearing the dreaded bathing suit.
I hate, hate, hate buying bathing suits. Consequently, I just don't. I avoid it at all costs. I wear suits until they are so worn out and ugly that I could actually be used as shark repellent when I wear them. (Insert Gordon Ramsey's voice here, as he pretends to be a shark: "What is that? That's disgusting!") My last "new" suit? Well, we were on vacation at Bass Lake in North Carolina several years ago, and I found it in a dresser drawer. So I washed it and put it on. And said, Hm. This fits. And wore it for 5 years. Gross, I know, but clearly I have no pride or self-respect when it comes to bathing suits.
And that was the little number I wore to the beach last weekend. As we were walking down the beach, I came to the realization that spending the winter in my closet had not magically rejuvenated the elastic in the legs. So my lovely walk with my husband was more like Step-Step-Tug, Step-Step-Tug. It completely ruined the romantic hand-holding. And swimming was even more fun. The waves were rough, and I took a few good tumbles, but when the day was over and I went back to the shower I realized that I had taken at least half of the beach away with me. All stored in my crotchal region.
|If only I had been this cute.|
(No, I didn't order it from Victoria's Secret. I've probably been blackballed by that company for my extreme snarkiness. Plus, I think a prerequisite of buying one of their suits is the willingness to stand around with your thumbs in your pants, looking like you can't wait to disrobe.)
Well, my suit arrived Thursday and Miracle of Miracles, it fits! I even got approval from my daughter (in the form of "Oh, that's cute"), so I'm pretty doggone happy about that. Do you want to see it?
|You didn't think I'd be IN it, did you? Silly you.|