I would do almost anything for my daughters. Buying a swimsuit for myself, however, is not one of them. I have not owned one since the early 90’s. Perhaps if I’d had sons instead of gorgeous daughters it would have been different. If one must wear a swimsuit at least have the good sense to sit near a fat woman….not your svelte daughters with a perky rear-ends.Truthfully, I would gladly plunge an ice-pick into my eyeball than subject myself to the horror and self-loathing of trying on swimsuits. Even with coaching (albeit weak) from my well-intentioned daughter in the fitting room. Daughter: “Mom, that one looks….kinda cute..” Me: “On whom would it look cute?!” I spat back, her face sort of crumpling. I am now in the company of skirted bottom swimsuited females….not exactly a crowd I want to hang with. Oh, how I long for the days in my teeny bikini languidly lounging poolside with longing looks from adoring men. I would casually set my paperback down to light a cigarette pretending to be unaware of how hot I looked. Immediately, I am snapped back to reality when my grandson (who came along for moral support) begins crawling into the adjoining fitting room….no doubt traumatized by the sight of me and desperately trying to make a snappy get-away.
Now, mind you, I am not a fatty by any means. In fact, I wear a size 4 jeans. But, something inexplicable happens when a woman steps out of her jeans and into that bathing suit…..we are immediately transformed into the incredible hulk, sans the bulging green muscles, just bulges.
I am now begging my daughter for a reprieve from this sadistic attempt to buy swimming attire. I ask why I cannot just wear cut-offs and a jog bra, like I have for years. I am given “that LOOK”. We all know THE LOOK if we have daughters. Translated it means quite simply….you will look ridiculous and hideous and I’d rather change shitty diapers than to be seen with you.
Alas, we agree to a plea bargain…. I will consider the purchase but just not today. Perhaps soon, in a galaxy…. far, far away.