Plans have been laid out and a few pools days are in my near future which means time to check out the swimwear hiding away at the bottom of my privies drawer.
Well it seems chlorine has eaten a hole through the bottom of one in much to friendly a spot, another bottom has gone completely sheer, elastic gone on yet another and the remaining mix seems to either no longer or perhaps it never did fit quite right and so……and so *big breath* it is time for that most loved activity of women the world over, swimsuit shopping.
I’m not a fan of shopping in the first place but make it swimsuit shopping and boy do I wish I were doing anything else. Cleaning the bathroom ranks about 100 spaces higher than swimsuit shopping and it is my most hated household chore. To add to my joy I cannot wear a one-piece no matter how many I’ve tried on, with the exception of a maternity one (yes I was pregnant at the time, no smart-ass comments) I’ve never found one I could wear. I’m also beginning to reach an age where I’m no longer sure if I can pull that look off.
One piece suits either squish my chest into a singular lung crushing breast whilst crawl up my backside or fitting top side and dropping of my bottom neither of which is a good/comfortable look. I’m what one might call top-heavy and although many women may consider that a plus I assure you it is not, as my upper back continually reminds me.
I do believe I have a fairly good body image and most of the time I’m comfortable in a bathing suit once I’m at the beach or poolside. Perhaps not quite as comfortable as when I was 18 (man I miss that body) but enough to always enjoy myself and not care who may be looking. While it remains at a store however every flaw and doubt leaps to the surface and it is an entirely different matter.
I like every other woman out there has her issues with swimsuits but I don’t really believe that anyone can look good under the particular set of circumstance that comes about when trying on swimwear. Let us consider; florescent lighting, really whose bright idea was that one? Warped plastic mirrors, hrmmm a not so fun house. The need to tuck your underwear into the edges in the hopes of finding out what said suit will actually look like without the extra layer, and last but not least the shade of blinding white skin that comes from being a Caucasian woman in the midst of a Canadian winter.
Really who can possibly look good under that particular circumstance?
No one that’s who.
