So this weekend, because I love self-torture, I decided to go bra-shopping for the new post-baby 'ladies' and swimsuit shopping, for the new, but improving post-baby body - IN THE SAME TRIP. Hoo boy! They don't make words for those experiences, but at the least I provided some giggles for my mom and sister. People close to me know I am not modest, and I was not about to leave my support system out on this one - especially in the venture of new support.
Thanks to technologies and advances in textiles the outlook was not nearly as bleak as it could have been. Have you been bra-shopping lately?? It is mind blowing. The last time I went it was, hmm, well...I really can't remember, close to 2 years ago. Shameful I know. I also peel off the last paper towel shreds off the roll and have been known to wear jeans until they are transparent. Anywho...after gathering no less than 32 options, off to the dressing room I went to wrangle and wriggle into some form of womanly shape. After a lot of sweat and a few tears I had marginal success, but success nonetheless and ended up with two that look some what nice and manage to perform the miracle of lifting the worn and torn leftover 'baggage' of my baby's sole source of nutrition for some seven plus months.
Moving on, part two: the bathing suit search! Cue scary music: Duh da DUH!! So there I was 3 pounds short of my weight-loss goal for Memorial Weekend in a sea of Lycra and floral prints. Again thank you to the person who realized that maybe a little ruching and smaller patterns might be more flattering to those of us who are waist-line compromised. So I took an armful of sizes and shapes back to the dressing room, hopeful with all of my options.
Side rant: because you love these - what the hell is wrong with shopping mall designers? It's like they do the whole building and then go "oh crap, what if they want to try the clothes on?!" and then find the dankest place because they are stumped for space, and get the cheapest lighting because the project is already over budget, and the throw up a few ply-board walls and expect us to feel all pretty and sexy? I CAN SEE MY PORES in those lights! Why would seeing my pores make me want to buy a swimsuit - now a sweatsuit is another story but that just isn't practical in 100 degree weather.
I had suits of all shapes and sizes, in desperate hope to find the perfect suit to cover up all the imperfections and not make me look like a...uh...well, MOM! So after lots of wailing and gnashing of teeth,(because yes my idea of hell just might be trying on swimsuits, but trying them on in public, with people watching and the devil purposely hands you suits that are two sizes too small) I found one that I really like. I mean it actually made me look smaller! But of course they didn't have it in the correct size. Sob.
But my sweet mother, who had put up with SO much already whisked me away to Target to find an emergency suit for a memorial day event. I was determined to get Baby H in the pool so we found one that would work - although I still have fears of someone asking me if I am pregnant because it is a loose tankini. I mean how do you answer that question, really? No ass, I am just still fat from the first one, but thanks for pointing it out. Sometimes I secretly want to say yes - just to see the look on their faces, but don't because I will want to slap them for the question that inevitably follows "Oh, so were you trying?"
Man, squeezing my softness into stretchy things really brings out my pretty side doesn't it? Oh well it was all worth it for this precious face!
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