Today I spent my morning inflicting the worst kind of torture one can do to themselves ... I went bathing suit shopping. With K's swimming lessons starting in three weeks, I knew I needed a new suit. I also knew I wasn't going to really enjoy this adventure. The first place I looked ... I swear, the suits were geared to women who want to show you their belly button -- but from the angle that it's their cleavage. I mean, we are talking LOW CUT mamas. I didn't even bother trying them on, knowing that I needed just a tad bit more coverage than that.
I tried on a gazillion suits and finally out of desperation decided to try Sears at the mall. Well, low and behind, I'm greeted by the Lands End section, and there are many classic suit options available (no ridiculous metallic embellishments or bone beading that is made to look pretty but has no chance to stand up to the function needed of a suit.)
I grabbed many options off the racks and went into the fitting room. The first suit did it. I knew it was the one. It made me feel like I could be confident as I held my son in the pool singing ridiculous water songs and trying to increase his comfort in the water.
Well, it's not for everyone -- bathing suit shopping that is -- but for this mom, it was a cruelty that needed to happen. (Note - that is not me, but it is the suit.)
No comments:
Post a Comment