Tuesday, April 12, 2011

It's The Most Horrible Time of the Year...

I know what you are thinking.  After all, THAT day in April is upon us and we have to deal with Uncle Sam and his Band of Merry Men.  But no, I am not referring to Tax Day.

A day or two ago a package arrived in the mail. My girls were positively giddy, and I wanted to throw up.  It was safe enough looking.  An innocent package, gray with dark lettering.  It was a Land's End package.  And it contained bathing suits.

Now lest you think we are extravagant people, I will just say for the record, the reason my girls were so, "over the moon" is because their bathing suits usually come from exotic places like Sam's Club, in between the dog food and the bananas, or Target, my second home.  But this year I wanted a more modest option for my chiquitas and I saw a really cute suit at Land's End that fit the bill.
The top of the suit for the girls.  I bought matching swim shorts as well.  They look adorable!

The suits were not that pricey and I loved them.  A friend had bought a similar one for her daughter and I loved that it came with shorts.  No more "yanking" when the girls come out of the pool.  A bit more coverage would help my growing girls as well.

My bathing suit was one I bought a couple years ago and is now too big.  Plus, it is a bit worn out from a couple years of daily treks to the local pool, and sadly misshapen.  It is a bit embarrassing.  So, I took the plunge and ordered one along side the girls' suits.

Now, although bathing suit shopping is certainly more private when you do it at home, it is no less terror inducing when you have to try on the blasted thing.  It was time to pay the piper.

I avoided the inevitable by joining the girls in their happy dance over THEIR new suits.  They excitedly tried them on and they looked perfect.  Of course.  On the first try.  My youngest is a petite thing and at seven years old she fit into a size 5 bathing suit.  A five.  I come no where close to that number; girl's size, ladies' size or otherwise.  My suit lay waiting at the bottom of the Land's End package like a snake in a pit, poised to strike.  I carried the offending thing up to my room and locked the door.  And then installed a deadbolt and infrared sensors, lest anyone come within 20 yards of my bedroom and witness the stand off between me and the suit. 

I pulled the pretty, innocent, thing out of the bag and looked at it.  It was a nice suit, maybe it would be kind.  Because I have a long torso and am taller (not "freakishly" tall, but tall nonetheless),

I chose a two piece (like a tankini).  It was time.  I could only stare at it for so long.  I took the plunge.  And then laughed hysterically.  Not the kind of laughter that is a form of relief from a stressful situation, but the kind you may hear, say... in a mental institution.  Which may be where they find me if I do not find a new suit soon.  Needless to say, the Land's End suit got stuffed, no rammed, back into the bag.  It will not be making the rounds at my pool this summer.  At lease not on this gal.  

It is back to the drawing board and back to searching, browsing and scouring the web for that perfect suit.  So if you see me in a suit like this one...

...and muttering to myself in between bursts of hysterical laughter, it may be best to stay on the opposite side of the pool.