Size Me Up

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A coworker reminded me this week that since we’re going to Florida, we will probably want to bring bathing suits. I’ll be there for an entire month, so realistically I will want more than one bathing suit. But I only have one good bathing suit.

If you’re female, you already know where I’m going with this. Feel free to go grab a snack and come back next week. By the way, you look thin. Have you been eating enough?

Anyway.

Like most women, I hate bathing suit shopping.

thinkstockphotos-621993752This is because no one actually looks good in a bathing suit unless they get paid to do so (allowing them to pay other people to help them look good in a bathing suit.) Oh, and chubby kids. Fat babies look adorable in bathing suits.

When it comes to something as tight-fitting as swimwear, the sizes Small, Medium, and Large, simply don’t allow for the fact that HUMANS AREN’T SHAPED THE SAME. Not a one of us. For instance, I’ve got some extra junk in my trunk, but I also have the rib cage circumference of a chihuahua. And I’m supposed to choose between three sizes that were actually made for “Small model,” “Average model,” and “The rest of you.”

What in the actual heck?!?

(And don’t even get me started on dressing room lighting. I’m pretty sure it’s the mirrors that have cellulite, not us, just so you know.)

And yes, I can buy a more expensive bathing suit that allows for specific measurements. But forking over $150+ for a piece of lycra specially tailored to my bra size and the width of my belly button is just not how I want to spend my money. Why isn’t this where the whole, “There are starving children in Africa!” subject pops up? It makes so much more sense in relation to over-priced bathing suits than food that’s already been purchased and served to an American. I’ve been cleaning my plate for almost 20 years now, and those children are still starving. It’s not working, people.

I know I had a point to all this. Something about the unfairness of our material world and how they work us over for extra money and we try to make ourselves feel better while we eat our feelings of inadequacy because we don’t look like models.

But honestly, that just feels exhausting. Forget it.

I’m going to Walmart to get a bathing suit and some ice cream. Need anything?

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