Today after a lovely day at church (it is just so good to see everyone on Sundays, but Michelle and Melissa S., you were missed!) I braced myself and embarked on one of the most harrowing experiences an adult female can attempt: buying a bathing suit. I have avoided this for quite some time. I bought my last bathing suit around 1998. Seriously. I’m not trying to be funny. That was 4 kids ago. I have to be able to go to the pool now because we have one in the neighborhood, and talking me into going is one of the kids’ great goals in life at this point. We have never had regular pool access, just on vacations, so I’ve been able to avoid buying swimwear at any point during the 21st century.
I went to Kohl’s, thinking that whole mix and match thing would work for me. NOT! My 6-year-old daughter accompanied me to the dressing room with my armful of tops and bottoms. After comments like, “Mommy, your tummy is wrinkly,” I realized that none would work. This whole low-rise craze just doesn’t work for bodies which have borne 8 children, and I didn’t really think they looked that low on the hanger. Back for round 2, sans my daughter. A little better. After about 4 trips to the dressing room, I emerged with a bathing suit I think I can live with. I have accepted my limitations, which means my selections are confined to the self-help section. You know, camouflage clothing (I don’t mean military fabric). I have to interject how hysterical it was to see the suits that 4 of my kiddos wanted me to try. Let’s just say they’re very into the gaudy factor, or “high tacky,” as my mom would have said. I don’t think I could have left the house.