Sears is my friend
Yes, that's right, Sears. Where, I believe, Cheryl Tiegs sold her goods. Sears where you can buy a thong, a Craftsman ratchet set, and pay on your Discover card. Good ol' trusty Sears had swimsuits 50% off.
I was determined not to give up on finding swimwear that suits my body. Nor was I willing to succumb to my own irrational self-conscious vanity. Enough is enough. Fat girls get hot, too. Probably more so than those skinny minnies who tan year 'round and eat little to nothing. And I can't really compare myself to a youthful twink who has never given birth, stood on her feet for 8 plus hours a day for 28 years or came to realize that exercise and diet are no longer optional.
I needed a swift kick in the arse. I was veering too far off track. I was losing sight of my goal toward a healthier life. It's not just about vanity ... this diet thing, that is. Yesterday's swimsuit fiasco provided me with two things: 1) A kick in the fat fanny, and 2) I need to realize there is more to me than meets the eye. Other people DO see it, but I'm too shallow toward myself to recognize it. DUH! I'm an ass and that's okay as long as I admit, right? So, I'm done with the pity party.
As I said earlier, Sears is my saviour. After I got of work I walked to the other end of the mall (quite rapidly) and made a bee-line to women's fashions. I had decided that a tankini with wide straps would be perfect as I'd still manage to wear a bra underneath. My plan was to just cut fool's support and provide my own. I found several patterned suits with wide straps. Apparently someone out there realizes that a woman with plentiful curves requires a firmer elastic, wide strap. Whoddathunkit? The grooviest thing is that several suits had swim shorts or skirts. Sure, my cottage cheese, road mapped thighs are still visible, but not having a traditional bottom digging into my meaty Brazilian zone makes a world of difference.
First up were the standard tank top styles with the shorts. I felt the sport shorts gave my already bubbled butt too much oomph. And not a good oomph. After 3 styles that were similar, but different patterns (one even had glitter. Uh, no!), I grabbed the one with an adjustable sweetheart neckline. I can control just how much cleavage is revealed. As Stacy and Clinton would advise: draw the eyes upward. Thelma and Louise will be working overtime this summer. Great! The top is perfect. Now, the bottom.
I wasn't sure how I'd look in a 'skirtini' (sounds like something you'd drink, eh?). It actually is a nice look. I suppose the look would have been far more together had removed my knee-hi support stockings. Ooh, so sexy! I won't be wearing those to the pool.
As for the material design: the skirtini is milk chocolate brown. Or, as the tag reads, java. The top is a Hawaiian, tropical leaf pattern of the same java, turquoise and white. [see image right]
I've already imagined how I'll move from my chaise lounger to the lazy river. I'll have the kid grab an inner tube. With his tube, he'll walk behind me as I walk with my tube in front of me. No one will have to suffer the horror that is cellulite and veiny city. Actually, it is still about my vanity. You don't expect me to change in 24 hours, do you? I'll just go 'round and 'round on the lazy river until the Man-cub rescues me with his diversionary tactics and camoflage.
I was determined not to give up on finding swimwear that suits my body. Nor was I willing to succumb to my own irrational self-conscious vanity. Enough is enough. Fat girls get hot, too. Probably more so than those skinny minnies who tan year 'round and eat little to nothing. And I can't really compare myself to a youthful twink who has never given birth, stood on her feet for 8 plus hours a day for 28 years or came to realize that exercise and diet are no longer optional.
I needed a swift kick in the arse. I was veering too far off track. I was losing sight of my goal toward a healthier life. It's not just about vanity ... this diet thing, that is. Yesterday's swimsuit fiasco provided me with two things: 1) A kick in the fat fanny, and 2) I need to realize there is more to me than meets the eye. Other people DO see it, but I'm too shallow toward myself to recognize it. DUH! I'm an ass and that's okay as long as I admit, right? So, I'm done with the pity party.
As I said earlier, Sears is my saviour. After I got of work I walked to the other end of the mall (quite rapidly) and made a bee-line to women's fashions. I had decided that a tankini with wide straps would be perfect as I'd still manage to wear a bra underneath. My plan was to just cut fool's support and provide my own. I found several patterned suits with wide straps. Apparently someone out there realizes that a woman with plentiful curves requires a firmer elastic, wide strap. Whoddathunkit? The grooviest thing is that several suits had swim shorts or skirts. Sure, my cottage cheese, road mapped thighs are still visible, but not having a traditional bottom digging into my meaty Brazilian zone makes a world of difference.
First up were the standard tank top styles with the shorts. I felt the sport shorts gave my already bubbled butt too much oomph. And not a good oomph. After 3 styles that were similar, but different patterns (one even had glitter. Uh, no!), I grabbed the one with an adjustable sweetheart neckline. I can control just how much cleavage is revealed. As Stacy and Clinton would advise: draw the eyes upward. Thelma and Louise will be working overtime this summer. Great! The top is perfect. Now, the bottom.
I wasn't sure how I'd look in a 'skirtini' (sounds like something you'd drink, eh?). It actually is a nice look. I suppose the look would have been far more together had removed my knee-hi support stockings. Ooh, so sexy! I won't be wearing those to the pool.
As for the material design: the skirtini is milk chocolate brown. Or, as the tag reads, java. The top is a Hawaiian, tropical leaf pattern of the same java, turquoise and white. [see image right]
I've already imagined how I'll move from my chaise lounger to the lazy river. I'll have the kid grab an inner tube. With his tube, he'll walk behind me as I walk with my tube in front of me. No one will have to suffer the horror that is cellulite and veiny city. Actually, it is still about my vanity. You don't expect me to change in 24 hours, do you? I'll just go 'round and 'round on the lazy river until the Man-cub rescues me with his diversionary tactics and camoflage.
"I needed a swift kick in the arse."
ReplyDeleteRight then, sounds like someone wants to hear that it's okay to quit and just except that you can't go any further...HORSE SHIT!
Again with the subliminal sabotage, enough yeah? Don't give up, I'm sure there's more to your will power than meets the eye as well, you just need to focus on the big picture.
Uh, maybe I'm misreading your comment, but I don't see how I'm giving up if seeing myself in the full-length mirror gave me the incentive I needed to push myself further ... to continue toward my goal.
ReplyDeleteI've not given up. I got back on track when I had diverted off the course of steady weight loss.
Thanks for the encouragement, all the same.