Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

25 May 2012

Bathing suit shopping

Okay, I'm finally ready to talk about it.

*deep breathing exercises*

Inhale... Exhale.... Inner peace....
Okay, fine... it actually looks more like this:


So here's the scoop:

I had to go bathing suit shopping a few days ago.

Why, you ask?  

Because my bathing suit from last year doesn't fit me.

*long pause*  

I knowwwww, right????

What the fuck, even?  It's made out of stretchy stuff.  It's supposed to fit, like, forever.  

It's a goddamn rule.

It's a tankini, for Fuck's own sweet sake... How do you outgrow a tankini???

Here's how (in case you were wondering):

You get so damn fat that the bottoms squish your belly UPwards, creating a muffin top so large that the rings of Saturn migrate to earth to encircle you.

Then your boobs grow to such mammoth proportions that the tank portion of the ensemble resembles two pigs fighting their way out of a gunny sack.

It still fits.... right?  Plus my tan makes me look thin!

There was nothing left to do besides face the dreaded Fat Girl section in Walmart and buy a new suit.

Dear Walmart,

Just because I'm a tad on the "plump" side doesn't mean that I have Jungle Fever.

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.




Nor do I wish to resemble a fat giraffe.

Am I a tiger?  Am I a leopard?  Am I a wildebeast?

Ohhhh, I get it...  I'M A ZEBRA!

I found myself going through the racks humming, "In the jungle, the mighty jungle..."

Then it occurred to me:

If I wore anyone of those bathing suits in the jungle, not only would I be the slowest member of the food chain, I'd also be the fattest.  In other words?  I'd be dinner.

There are very few things I hate more than trying on bathing suits, for the following reasons:

1.  I'm always positive they have security cameras trained into the dressing rooms and someone, somewhere, is calling his buddies over to "Check out the fat chick trying to yank that suit up over her enormous granny panties!"

Rat bastards.  I know they're there.  I know they're watching.

2.  I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who leaves my panties on when trying on bathing suits, so the thought of having my pantied crotch coming into contact with someone else's UNpantied crotch skeeves me the hell out.

Shut up.  It is too a logical fear.

3.  I hate doing the Walk Of Shame when I emerge from the dressing room and hand over the five suits that didn't fit and make me look like Jaba The Hut to the (usually elderly and judgmental) dressing room attendant, who announces loudly (because she's 900 years old and deaf), "Too small, huh?"

Anyway, I finally settled in a bathing suit that wasn't hideous and would (hopefully) camouflage my ever expanding girth (girth is only good if you're a dude).

This is what I bought:

This is how I look in it:

Okay, fine.

THIS is how I look in it:

I'm the brunette.

Have a fabu weekend, me loverlies!!