First I have to apologize to my "readers" (especially my sissy, Nett) for taking an unannounced hiatus. There was just stuff going on, ok? Believe it or not, I have a life. Not much of one, but some of one...
I'm currently at the beach with my whole family. The five of us, plus bro's family and sis' family (minus bro, bro-in-law and nephew, but everyone else is here and they were all here until this morning)! Anyway...they've all been having a blast on the beach. Tanning and what-not. But me? I'm upstairs in the house in my sweats and tee. Yesterday I did venture down to the sand, in my "3 piece suit", as my sister-in-law called it, 2 tank tops and a pair of sweats. They were capri sweats...does that count? Ugh...this conundrum has brought me to this blog post. {{Ok, I have no idea if that was the proper use of the word conundrum, but I really, really, really wanted to use that word.}}
When I went digging in the swim suit drawer to pack for the trip, I couldn't find a matching top and bottom. I have a suit that somewhat fits and looks ok, but I couldn't find the bottoms. Then when I found the bottoms, I couldn't find the top. So I gave up looking for that one. The other suit I have has a cute top, but the bottom is a skirt, and because I refuse to become "the old lady that wears a bathing suit with a skirt", I wasn't about to bring it. I usually wear the bottoms to an old maternity bathing suit I have, but I'm proud to say that those bottoms no longer fit (they're too big, duh), so that option was out, too.
Ok, in all honesty, that was just an excuse to not bring my suit. Even if I had it, I wouldn't wear it (although I did see some suits that had all that tummy control stuff in them, that I might need to do a little more research on before my next beach trip), because of all my other body issues. Which leads me to the...
Five Reasons I Didn't Bring a Bathing Suit to The Beach:
5. I feel fat. I swear, two weeks ago, I was a size 4. Now I feel like a size 14 (not that there is anything wrong with that!). But what the heck?!?!? How does that even happen? I had to go buy a bunch of sweats to wear over here because all of my other clothes were tight and I refuse to come to the beach and be uncomfortable in my own clothes. It's bad enough I'm uncomfortable in my own skin! {{Fatty Fatty 2x4...}}
4. I'm in a house full of super cute TEENAGE GIRLS. Why the heck would I want to go down on the beach with 4 super cute girls in their bathing suits, when I already feel fat. Their perky boobs, perky butts and trim tummies. Gag...they make me sick. And they're rude. I mean really....how rude of them to be cute teenage girls in bathing suits on the beach. Whatever.
3. My legs are so veiny. Waaahhhhhh!!!! I use to have amazing legs. OMGee, seriously...I have pictures of me from my bridal showers sitting in short dresses and my legs all the way up were absolutely amazing. No, really. I'm not just tooting my own horn (ok, maybe I am), but they were perfectly smooth and slim. A-MAZ-ZING. Well, those days are gone {{until I save up enough to have that laser vein removal done}} !
2. I'm white. I have no color. I take that back...I have some color...Orange, around my ankles and knees and the palms of my hands...from all the fake tan I was lathering on before we came over here!! Ugh...If I didn't have blue eyes and dark hair, I would think I was an albino.
...And the number one reason I didn't bring a suit....
1. Hair. Hair, hair everywhere. No, seriously. The fact that I have to shave from my toes to my neck and use 5 razors in the process is a real downer. And quite frankly, I can't afford it. Razors are expensive! And the last comment about me having dark hair wasn't just about my head. Nope. 'Nuf said.
I could have also mentioned something about my boobs hanging down to my belly button and stretch marks all over my hips and thighs, too, but I figured that was just overkill.
So, until I've saved up enough for my vein removal, fat removal and boob job, I'll stick to my sweats and tees and when I'm feeling really adventurous, I'll throw on a tank and pull up my pants. You. Are. Welcome.
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