Sorry, I haven't blogged. I've been really busy with several upcoming projects--editing a new erotica anthology, entitled Can't Help the Way That I Feel, planning two private Stiletto U birthday parties this summer for private clients, and the upcoming Sexitude Workshop that begins this week. So with all this going on, I'm trying to fit in a weekend at the beach with my Mothers Off Duty group. As much as I am looking forward to seeing my girls, going to the beach means wearing a bathing suit. Hmmm. I've been avoiding buying a new bathing suit for a few years now (some of you may recall the cherry red bikini story). So I went today to find a new suit. I swear trying on bathing suits is the most depressing thing, I don't care how great you feel about yourself. You know what I mean, so we we'll just agree that trying on bathing suits is that horrible recurring nightmare come true--you know, the one where you're running around naked in public, mortified and feeling totally vulnerable.
The problem is that when it comes to clothes, I've nearly mastered the art of camouflage. Folks think I'm taller, thinner, and toner than I really am--that's the miracle of knowing what styles flatter you, monotone dressing, and high heels. This allows me to dress age appropriate for let's say, a forty year-old. But a bathing suit? Well, there's just no place to hide. Fifty one is fifty one, in all it's gravity-depraved glory!
Any who, let me get to the point. I passed the string bikinis, maneuvered myself around the unstructured, peek-a-boo one pieces that might as well have been a been bikinis, and slid past the tankinis. I still don't understand those. The ones where the tops are fitted ride up just enough so your muffin top can enjoy the sun, and those that are fuller look like maternity bathing suits. Being 51 and looking preggers is not sexy. Hell, it's not even cute.
I continued my search for the hardware section of the swim shop. You know, where they store all the "look like you lost 10 pounds" and tummy control bathing suits. The ones that have pulley's at the shoulders to hoist up the girls and a steel mesh girdle to keep the baby weight you're trying to lose from your last pregnancy (so what if Eva is 16--you can't drop it overnight, you know!)from spilling out. Well, I checked out that rack and immediately got depressed. They looked like the suits my mom wears. She's 82. Enuf said.
So what rack do I find myself sifting through? THE FRICKIN' SWIM DRESSES!!! At first I am shocked into momentary paralysis. Am I really considering these? Is this what I'd been reduced to? A swim muumuu? But then I see a little Michael Kors number that is downright sexy. My mind is thinking, you look better in dresses than pants--and this is like a little miniskirt. Add a pair of cute little heels--scratch that--you're going to the beach--okay, add a pair of cute little flip flops and this might could work. Of course they don't have the little sexy number in my size, so, being a true believer in potential, I grab several and head to the dressing rooms.
The first two I tried on scared the hell out of me because when I looked in the mirror, that's right, I saw my mother. Trying not to get depress, I soldier on, eliminating the most matronly ones and holding on to the two "hey, this is kinda cute" suits. I alternated trying them on, not completely grossed out but not completely loving either one, and totally lamenting that the sexy little swim dress was not available (I swear if I see some size two chick in that suit next weekend...). But I also was feeling like if I could find the right one, I could own this look. This little swim dress idea had potential. Flirty, sexy, camouflaged potential!! Yeah baby!
So long story short. I did not buy a bathing suit today, but I am on the hunt. I did, however, purchase two adorable cover ups! Funny, how those always fit!
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