I have some exciting news!
(No, I’m not pregnant. Jeeze! Every time I say “exciting news” this happens.)
We are going on a real vacation! Sometime in the near or distant future (I’m not saying when. This is the internet, people. Statistically, a third of y’all are creeps.), we will embark on a seven day journey through the Eastern Caribbean. The Caribbean!! This will be my hubby and I’s first real vacation as a married couple. Yeah, it’s about dang time.
I’ve been to Hawaii, but that was 10 years ago. I haven’t seen the ocean since 2008, and that was the Adriatic Sea—beautiful, but not tropical. The ocean has always been my favorite place. Growing up, we spent a lot of time on the California and Oregon coast. Beautiful. And cold.
This is where this post ceases to be relatable to persons of the male persuasion. Sorry, guys. You can keep reading, but you’ll probably just leave shaking your head in confusion.
Okay, ladies. As all of you know, any tropical vacation includes a few different things. Tanning. Flip-flops. Sundresses. And bathing suits.
Bathing suit shopping.
Here is a brief list of things I’d prefer to do:
Poke myself in the eye.
Run out of gas on a busy highway.
Drink black coffee.
Be stranded on a desert island with only a Justin Bieber album for company.
There you have it. Obviously, those are a bit exaggerated. (Justin Bieber?! Please, God, no!!) But relatively speaking, those are all welcome alternatives to examining the fit of a hideous suit in a three-way mirror. All you ladies know what I’m saying. (See, guys? Not relatable. Sorry.)
I waited until the end of the season because sales. The cost of garishly printed spandex is really a thing of shame, America. Just saying.
Well, I dropped my little one off at Nana and Papa’s and headed for the mall, optimistic as usual. The first store (which shall remain nameless) lured me in with a gigantic selection of brightly colored suits promising shaping, nipping, tucking, slenderizing, etc, etc. “50% OFF!” the signs screamed. But 50% off $100 is still not something I can stomach. I tried a few things on, then left in search of more promising empty promises because those were just a little too empty for me.
I tried four other stores before settling on two suits. At every store I’d think, “This is the one! I can feel it!” only to then be disappointed by my lack of intuition. You know what they say about women’s intuition? It doesn’t apply to bathing suit shopping. Also, when you have to look at a bathing suit and wonder, “How does this thing work?” something is wrong. Like a 5-year-old getting her shots, I promised myself ice cream when it was all over. The ice cream didn’t happen, but the thought sustained me throughout the process.
During this marathon of dressing rooms and disappointments, I noticed something: there are very few well-designed bathing suits for girls of any size. They either leave you feeling over-exposed, covered up like a nun, or accentuated in all the wrong places. (No, bathing suit, pointing out my love handles does not make you endearing. Go. Away.) This is free, ladies: One of you with a talent for fashion design should start a line of bathing suits for the normal girl—affordable, stylish, and without any sinister take-over-the-world-one-self-image-at-a-time inclinations. I mean, who designs these monstrosities? Seriously.
Once I’d found the two potentials, I did what any girl does—second guessed myself until I wasn’t really sure if I liked them at all. One more glance at the mess of a bathing suit section snapped me out of it. I made the purchase and ran screaming from the mall as fast as my little legs could carry me.
Needless to say, I’m glad this necessary evil is over with and I sincerely hope when any of you are subjected to bathing suit shopping you have a mom or sister or best-friend there for solidarity. (My mom was there via text. Saved my life, and the lives of several sales people.)
*steps onto soapbox* Remember, lovelies: We have to stick together against the evil forces of spandex and remember that WE are the definition of beautiful. We don’t change to fit the suits. They should be designed to fit us. *steps off soapbox*
Boys, if you’re still reading you should take this opportunity to give your wife/girl-friend/whatever an understanding hug. Even if you’re still confused. Trust me, it can only help. And if you throw in “You’re so beautiful!”, well, she’d be an idiot to not appreciate it.
Any funny bathing suit shopping stories?
I know you’re dying to share.