Swimsuit Shopping

Well it’s that most wonderful time of the year!  The purchase of this year’s swimsuit.

My self and my young shopper (three year old son) headed off. Oh

the choices……bikinis, thongs, tanks…or my usual favorite the skirted, where does a girl begin.  If you are like me, you grab a few in a size you were last year, and head off to

what you know will be painful….the fitting room.  This year they were carrying a little

number called “The Slim Suit”.  This little suit had special space age technology fabric guaranteed to take inches off your shape!  They also carried it in slimming black.  Well

Hello slim suit you have my name all over you!  The three of us headed behind the curtain.  What is it with those fluorescent lights, which make it painfully obvious that

besides missing a few aerobics classes, you’ve also scrimped on the personal grooming

this past winter. The lovely white pasty thighs, cellulite creep, and nether regions crying out for a Brazilian.  Sasquatch comes to mind.  I begin shimmying this garment up.

OH MY GOD, I feel like I am trussed  tighter then Dr Hannibal Lecter, in “Silence of the Lamb’s”, I can’t breathe, the fabric is cutting off my circulation, I pull it up another inch, I get it to my knees….And there it  is “A  Break for the Border!” My three year old son, has had enough, and has escaped through the bottom of the dressing room curtain.

What do I do? What do I do? Well we all know that motherhood trumps embarrassment

So off I go in hot pursuit.  Luckily I have managed to hike the straps partially up my arms (Kinda) and I am sprinting out of the dressing room.  You’ve heard of “Dead Man Walking”, think “Penguin Running.” My young associate thinks this is a game, he dashes under racks of clothes, all the while yelling “you can’t catch me, you can’t catch me!” You read about mothers imbued with superhuman strength when their offspring are threatened.  You would be amazed at how fast they can run too!  I charged through the store, dodging shopping carts, other moms   who glanced sympathetically, as they shielded there child’s eyes, and of course the fitting room lady, who wanted to know if I was taking the suit. After a tour of most of the areas in the store, (the men’s department was particularly delightful), I finally did catch him, and wrestled him back to the fitting room.  There I did notice that the claims of the “Slim Suit” were correct.  I had lost inches around my torso.   Unfortunately, like toothpaste in a tube, the inches had to go somewhere.  In this case I was now sporting what can best be described as a flesh colored inner tube around the top of the suit. I shed, “La Slim Suit” along with my dignity, while I played goalie: young son playing the part of the ball, and the escape route being the net.  As we slunk out of the store I realize how much I really liked last year’s suit.  It has the cutest skirt!