I've avoided it for as long as possible. But now it is inevitable. I MUST purchase a new swimsuit. Or 5.
I dread swimsuit season. I don't know what it is. Well, yes I do. I am just not comfortable with running around with perfect strangers wearing next to nothing. I like to be covered up. Even in my own home, I usually have a blanket wrapped around me. Some may say that it is a security blanket to wrap around my insecurity. And they would probably be right.
Usually the entire time I am in a swimsuit I am just worried. I can't enjoy myself because I am constantly worried about what might be showing that shouldn't be. What might be popping out that should stay always stay in. Then there are the dreaded tan lines. I spent enough years getting the most awesome farmer's tan lines from shinguards that I absolutely abhor tan lines of any kind.
Not to mention that recently (and recently, I mean in the past few years), I have discovered I am pretty allergic to the sun/heat/combo. I break out in rashes, usually all over my back and chest. Yes, it's soooooo attractive.
And then, the last couple of times we have been to the beach (and nice beaches, I might add - Mexico, Jamaica), I have always had "medical incidents" arise that make my bikini bod ever so less attractive.
Take Mexico. Went to a really nice resort on the western side of Mexico in Ixtapa. Gorgeous beaches. Great food. Good weather. (Oh, but did I mention that the particular week we went Ixtapa was hosting Mexico's youth national baseball playoffs and our resort was headquarters?... umm yeah - incredibly romantic with literally 1600 youth running around like maniacs. We complained and got our own private cabana, but still).
Apparently the sand bugs took a liking to me, so my legs and arms were covered in horrendous bites and little welts. Cute, right? Then came the mysterious "bite" (or infection or combination of the 2). Started on my knee, spread down my leg and encircled my calf. Matt likened it to "undercooked bacon". Yummy. Even the resident Mexican Naval doctor didn't know what it was. But it was Day 2 of our vacation and I was told to "stay out of the sun and surf" for the remainder of the trip. Ummmm, sir, we have 5 days left. So I stayed hidden under our private cabana umbrella courtesy of manager of the hotel, in a swimsuit but got zero sun. So basically, I went home, pasty white as when I arrived, except for the reddish/brown growth on my leg. Attractive. We all know that ANYTHING looks better tan than it does white - - so I am sure I was a real beauty in my swimsuit on that trip.
So, for a lot of reasons I don't care for swimsuits. I've actually owned one swimsuit I liked. It had a ruffle. And it was blue & white. And I was like 3. Pudgy bellies were cute then.
The other night I got online and started "swimsuit shopping". That's right - not even going to head into the flourescent hell that is a department store dressing room. Only Heidi Klum looks good in those & I'm pretty sure those lights could magnify her minute cellulite.
I think (wish, hope, pray) that I found some cute ones at VS & J Crew. Please, God. Let them fit. That's all I care about at this point. And please let their arrival coincide with my next airbrush tan appointment (see above: allergic to sun so no tanning beds for me) so they actually look semi-acceptable.
I have one goal out of our vacation this year. I would really like to take a picture in my swimsuit on the beach. The last pic I have like that was Spring Break '99 & it should be burned. Before that, I had to have been about 14 in the Bahamas with my 'rents. I want one good pic of me in a swimsuit because after that it is "baby-making" time and with crossed fingers my belly will be swollen and ready to pop this time next year and my bikini days will be over.
And I will not cry about that :)