Hawaii

I went swimsuit shopping this afternoon with Gigi while Cleo was at school. It was not fun. No, I tell you, not even a little bit.

I wandered the aisles of my chosen store looking for the suit that would hide my cellulite, accentuate only those curves that I wanted attention drawn to, didn't reveal too much derriere, and one I could chase kids around while on the beach in Hawaii.

After accumulating at least a dozen varieties, thinking that the more options I tried the more likely I was to find my dream suit the nice saleslady found me an extra large dressing room so I could wheel the stroller in with ease and still have plenty of room to evaluate myself in the mirror.

I tried on several, each worse than I could have possibly hoped. Parts of my body I haven't seen in years jiggled like there was a constant tremmer vibrating from the floor of the dressing room. No matter how still I stood, my body didn't cooperate. Each suit was worse than the last. Price, color, and texture became a non issue as all I wanted to do was find a swimsuit that made me look 20 pounds lighter and 15 years younger.

Finally, I decided I must lower my standards. I re-tried a couple of the suits that I wasn't as horrified by and finally decided on one almost identical to the last swimsuit I purchased.

And, feeling inspired by the frightening experience I went straight to the shoe department and bought tennis shoes, the first I've owned in years and years with hopes that they will help me look less like I do now, and more like I want to be.

So why did I title this post Hawaii? We'll be taking a family trip there the first week of March, and I have a feeling that I won't be able to avoid the beaches and pools that abound in this paradise.