Swimsuit shopping season is upon us as evidenced by the endless stream of catalogs with scantily clad models on the covers.
Swimsuit shopping season coincides with the time of year when I practice self loathing and binge eating.
I flip through the swimsuit catalogs while munching on healthy foods like Doritos and newly arrived Girl Scout cookies. Yes, I'm leaving orange cheese stains on each page as I belittle myself for not having more self restraint.
I have yet to find a swimsuit model in my favorite beach pose: spread eagle on a towel with a frozen drink in one hand and a half empty bag of chips in the other. The swimsuit is covered with a generous sprinkling of chip crumbs, and the model is 3 sheets to the wind.
If I ever see a swimsuit being modeled this way, I am definitely ordering that suit!
I've learned the best way to shop for a swimsuit is to buy from online catalogs.
No one wants to hear my shrieks of disgust or sobs. Everyone is happier if I try on the swimsuits in the privacy of my own home.
Another benefit of ordering from catalogs, of course, is that I do not own one of those evil, three-paneled, fun-house mirrors that are always found in dressing rooms with the brightest of fluorescent lighting. The downside of trying a swimsuit on at home is that I do not own one of those evil three-paneled mirrors.
I have no idea what my backside looks like which is a good thing. I last saw my backside in 2008, and I decided that I never needed to see that mess again.
Here's the thing I really don't understand. How did the back of my thighs become puckered and jiggly?
Is this normal? Don't answer that question.
Like every woman on this planet, I just want to find a swimsuit that fits me well and masks all of my various physical flaws. For this reason, I'm considering moving to Alaska.
Advertisers think they are being helpful by telling us in code which swimsuits would flatter us. The problem with this is that I don't always understand the code.
Am I a triangle, an upside down triangle, a rectangle or a star? Do I need tummy support and a miracle bra lift or just all over support? Should I buy a swim mini or a swim skirt? Do I need high cut, regular cut, regular torso or long? It's all too confusing!
Can the advertisers just label the swimsuits a little more clearly?
Honestly, I won't be offended. I would just like to see a page that reads, "If you have puckered, jiggly thighs buy one of these 2 swimsuits. We recommend sticking to black."
(OK. That's a bold-faced lie. I will be TOTALLY offended, but I'll get over it. I'll put on my big girl panties, and I do mean big girl, and get over it.)
Swimsuit shopping is stressful enough without having to decipher a code in the process.
Now, where did I hide that box of Thin Mints?
Swimsuit shopping season coincides with the time of year when I practice self loathing and binge eating.
I flip through the swimsuit catalogs while munching on healthy foods like Doritos and newly arrived Girl Scout cookies. Yes, I'm leaving orange cheese stains on each page as I belittle myself for not having more self restraint.
I have yet to find a swimsuit model in my favorite beach pose: spread eagle on a towel with a frozen drink in one hand and a half empty bag of chips in the other. The swimsuit is covered with a generous sprinkling of chip crumbs, and the model is 3 sheets to the wind.
If I ever see a swimsuit being modeled this way, I am definitely ordering that suit!
I've learned the best way to shop for a swimsuit is to buy from online catalogs.
No one wants to hear my shrieks of disgust or sobs. Everyone is happier if I try on the swimsuits in the privacy of my own home.
Another benefit of ordering from catalogs, of course, is that I do not own one of those evil, three-paneled, fun-house mirrors that are always found in dressing rooms with the brightest of fluorescent lighting. The downside of trying a swimsuit on at home is that I do not own one of those evil three-paneled mirrors.
I have no idea what my backside looks like which is a good thing. I last saw my backside in 2008, and I decided that I never needed to see that mess again.
Here's the thing I really don't understand. How did the back of my thighs become puckered and jiggly?
Is this normal? Don't answer that question.
Like every woman on this planet, I just want to find a swimsuit that fits me well and masks all of my various physical flaws. For this reason, I'm considering moving to Alaska.
Advertisers think they are being helpful by telling us in code which swimsuits would flatter us. The problem with this is that I don't always understand the code.
Am I a triangle, an upside down triangle, a rectangle or a star? Do I need tummy support and a miracle bra lift or just all over support? Should I buy a swim mini or a swim skirt? Do I need high cut, regular cut, regular torso or long? It's all too confusing!
Can the advertisers just label the swimsuits a little more clearly?
Honestly, I won't be offended. I would just like to see a page that reads, "If you have puckered, jiggly thighs buy one of these 2 swimsuits. We recommend sticking to black."
(OK. That's a bold-faced lie. I will be TOTALLY offended, but I'll get over it. I'll put on my big girl panties, and I do mean big girl, and get over it.)
Swimsuit shopping is stressful enough without having to decipher a code in the process.
Now, where did I hide that box of Thin Mints?
No comments:
Post a Comment