Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Swimsuit shopping (See: God’s cruel, cruel joke)

So my seester and her fam have rented a beach house next week for the High Holiday, and she invited me to come out and hang with her and the spawn. “Awesome,” I said. “I’m not a big swimmer (especially when not surrounded by vinyl or concrete), but it’ll be fun to watch the spawn frolic among the waves and sand, and maybe we’ll grill out and shit.” My seester, however, reminded me of how big a dork I would look like trying to get sun in a pair of capris and a tie-dye, so it was somewhat decided that I should have a new swimsuit. Ok, like I said, I’m not a good swimmer, and I’ve mentioned here before that when the genes were parsed among my sibs and me, I, as the only full-blooded Eastern European, got the sallow-yellow-doesn’t-tan-for-crap gene (I take that back—I’m pretty sure the youngest doesn’t tan, either, but she’s not sallow yellow, so if/when SHE stays out of the sun, it looks like she’s supposed to, whereas *I* look like a ‘net porn addict who rarely experiences daylight). Therefore, I’m NOT going to pay a lot for this swimsuit, so I decided to hit Kohl’s—you know, decently made, mid-range stuff that’s on hella sale this week. Got to Kohl’s around 11:30-ish and proceeded to find three tankini tops, two bottoms and one full tankini in what I figure my size is around.

Now when I hit the dressing room, I knew right off the bat the bottom half was going to be a trainwreck. I mean, let’s face it: I’m 5’3 with squatty legs, I’ve gained 50+ since the LAST time I shopped for a swimsuit and there’s that thing about my ass being flat. Heidi I’m not, and I’ve reached that point where I can deal with the fact that short of starving myself, I’ll never hit my high school weight again. But y’all, why they gotta make my cans look flat? I mean, there were cups where the tatters go—in the right places, even—but they were purely decoration, because ain’t no WAY a chick my size was going to look hot in any of the three I tried on. Not even store-bought t*ts could’ve held up under the mockingly blatant non-support. And it’s not like I want people being all like, “Guh, look at the rack on THAT one!” but dammit, there has to be something better out there for chicks like me who don’t want to spend a shit-ton of money on something I might wear once or twice a season. Jeez.


Posted by Broad7:20 PM
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
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Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

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