Good lord.
I just paid 80 dollars for a bathing suit...A bathing suit trimmed with gold leaf, I presume. A bathing suit that grants me the power to fly-!, or, at least, (phew), that of invisibility on the damn beach. I’m not sure which, yet. I'll find out when it gets shipped to me.
Target drove me to it, I tell you. It's the most dispiriting -- disquieting, even -- place to shop for a swimsuit. Nightmarish. I mean, as in: You can choose the turquoise and white halter bikini – the one with the little silver chain about the hips and a mountain of padding - or you can choose the gold-lame halter bikini. You know, to swim in. As a grown woman. In the ocean.
Oh, but wait: Here’s a black one! A black halter top that is not heinous! Sure, we didn’t set out to purchase a halter top, did we, Precious?, but at least this one’s not completely humiliating. And over here are some black bathing suit bottoms. Here, search for your size (which, you’ve learned through the years, is about a size and a half up from your bathing suit top size). Now, how come they all have silver belts on them? Or gold ones? What, is the idea that if you unbuckle your bathing suit belt, then what? That you can relax after a big ol’ meal and stick your hand in your pants while falling asleep in the La-Z-Boy? No, no, no. Keep flipping through.
However; oh, and I forgot to tell you this part: "your" size will not actually *fit* you. You must find your size. It's all a part of the spiritual journey into the vortex that is the swimsuit section of the Kirkwood Target in late April. It might be Large. It might be nothing, nothing at all. It might be that bathing suit over there that looks like a sporty suit. That one that—Oh, you tried it on? Oh, you say it flattened your breasts like Judy Garland but instead of looking like you were about to be whisked away to Magical Oz to ride multihued horses and do battle with evil, you looked precisely like another product of Kansas…the potato? Amazing.
So I came home and went to Lands End online and laid down this giant chunk of change for a modest-yet-pretty off-black affair. We'll see. Maybe this bathing suit will teach me to swim better. Maybe it'll save me from sharks.
I just paid 80 dollars for a bathing suit...A bathing suit trimmed with gold leaf, I presume. A bathing suit that grants me the power to fly-!, or, at least, (phew), that of invisibility on the damn beach. I’m not sure which, yet. I'll find out when it gets shipped to me.
Target drove me to it, I tell you. It's the most dispiriting -- disquieting, even -- place to shop for a swimsuit. Nightmarish. I mean, as in: You can choose the turquoise and white halter bikini – the one with the little silver chain about the hips and a mountain of padding - or you can choose the gold-lame halter bikini. You know, to swim in. As a grown woman. In the ocean.
Oh, but wait: Here’s a black one! A black halter top that is not heinous! Sure, we didn’t set out to purchase a halter top, did we, Precious?, but at least this one’s not completely humiliating. And over here are some black bathing suit bottoms. Here, search for your size (which, you’ve learned through the years, is about a size and a half up from your bathing suit top size). Now, how come they all have silver belts on them? Or gold ones? What, is the idea that if you unbuckle your bathing suit belt, then what? That you can relax after a big ol’ meal and stick your hand in your pants while falling asleep in the La-Z-Boy? No, no, no. Keep flipping through.
However; oh, and I forgot to tell you this part: "your" size will not actually *fit* you. You must find your size. It's all a part of the spiritual journey into the vortex that is the swimsuit section of the Kirkwood Target in late April. It might be Large. It might be nothing, nothing at all. It might be that bathing suit over there that looks like a sporty suit. That one that—Oh, you tried it on? Oh, you say it flattened your breasts like Judy Garland but instead of looking like you were about to be whisked away to Magical Oz to ride multihued horses and do battle with evil, you looked precisely like another product of Kansas…the potato? Amazing.
So I came home and went to Lands End online and laid down this giant chunk of change for a modest-yet-pretty off-black affair. We'll see. Maybe this bathing suit will teach me to swim better. Maybe it'll save me from sharks.
posted by Alice at 10:41 PM
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