Rantin and raven about a bathing suit

Maybe it’s because I’ve been spending a great deal of time cooking and eating. Or because I secretly still wear many of my maternity tops and dresses. Or maybe even the fact that yesterday’s post was entitled “nostalgic”. Whatever the reason, I am not pregnant. Confirmed.

And now that it’s confirmed, I’m putting up any and every thing that is maternity-related (even my old maternity panties, which will be hard to part with). I’m also saying goodbye to Partridge Family fabrics (as my mom calls them), empire waist lines, and baggy clothing. Maybe then the paparazzi will confirm that I am just carrying a little extra weight around my mid section and am not “with child”. 

Speaking of carrying a little extra weight, after enduring two and a half hours of torturous bathing suit shopping, I have decided that I would almost rather be the kid who purposely falls in the pool (fully clothed), then have to wear a skimpy piece of fabric that barley covers my rear. Really though. I knew after having a baby that my bikini wearing days were done. And I accepted that. But come on–today’s tankinis are almost as skimpy as string bikinis.

Here’s my beef. First off, if you’re buying a tankini, it’s probably because you don’t want to show your stomach. Most people, like myself, who want to hide their stomach, probably want to hide their thighs as well. So why the skimpy bottoms?

Oh and another thing. The busy fabrics that most of these suits are made of only draw attention to problematic areas. One tankini I tried on had two large, brightly colored circles strategically placed along the top portion of the bathing suit. As if I need to draw any more attention to my barely there, post breastfeeding ta ta’s.

Secondly, I hate, I mean HATE the fact that tankinis are sold as separates. Ok, it’s good if your top and bottom aren’t the same size, but who really has the time or patience to dig through dozens of picked over wracks, while untangling those pesky plastic hangers?

It’s enough to make you go insane. And tonight that’s exactly what I did. I’m sure the security services team was watching me like a hawk. Crouching from wrack to wrack and throwing bathing suits from left to right, I was not a pretty sight. Finally, I settled on a onepiece. Yes that’s right, a onepiece. My sister’s response, “what are you 80 years old?”

With my bathing suit in hand and only 20 minutes before the mall closed, I quickly searched for a cover up. I passed by all of the Hawaiian print moo-moos and made a bee line to a red and white tunic. I grabbed a small and slide it on over my shirt. I loved it. It fit like a glove. Nothing about my onepiece bathing suit spelled sexy, but in this tunic I was one hot moma.

Sold; that is until I started to take it off and realized that I was stuck and someone was going to have to rescue me from the man-eating tunic. Grunting, twisting, and praying, I finally managed to get it off, but not before hearing a series of seams begin to unravel. Abandoning the ripped tunic on the floor, I made a quick exit and grabbed a larger size.

When I got up the cash register, the woman told me my total was $178. What?!!!! I could feel my checks get hot and red. My eyes were as big as saucers. Somehow I managed to find the words to ask how much the bathing suit was. It was $80. That meant that the hot mama tunic was around $90. Which meant that the hot mama tunic was no more. And that less than three feet away, lay a seam stripped $90 tunic that I ruined.

With prices like those, who can afford a vacation? So, just so you know, I will be hitting the beach day after day in my brand new onepiece. I cannot afford financially or mentally to buy two. Nor can I afford the hot mama tunic. But that’s ok, I’m sure I can transform my old tye dyed “Jamaica me crazy” tank into the perfect coverup.

I can’t end a post without a picture and I’m sure that you’re not interested in seeing my new bathing suit, so here are two pics from yesterday’s cousin playdate. These two were into everything. I barely had time to get my camera out, much less take pictures.