L and I decided late Saturday night that we are going to Hawaii.
A week from today.
We were looking at taking Hatchling to Disney World, because even though we knew he wouldn't remember it, he is totally in love with "Mouse" (as he calls him) right now. But good gracious, is Disney World ever expensive! I calculated that we could go to Hawaii for about half the price of a trip to Disney. Uh- huh. HALF. So Hatchling can watch the Mouse DVD we plan on taking with us, and Daddy and I, who will actually remember the trip, can once again enjoy the perfect Hawaiian air wafting by us as we enjoy an iced coffee at the Honolulu Coffee Company.
The airmiles are applied, the condo is booked (for a discount! Because we are so last minute! I love a discount!), and I can blow a big ol' raspberry in the face of the Magic Kingdom. Don't get me wrong, I think Disney is the second happiest place on earth, but in my book, Hawaii easily takes first.
In anticipation of said venture, I took stock of my bathing costumes. When we were in Hawaii last year, I purchased a cute little bikini top with some board shorts. I don't know what got into me, really. I mean, I was 10 or 15 lbs bigger then, and I'm not comfortable in it now
. I can only assume that the sight of all those bodies on the beaches of Waikiki which were even flabbier than me encouraged me to flaunt my fat too. I've always been a joiner. All well and good when in Hawaii, but when in our neighborhood pool, greeting the leader of our community group, not quite as acceptable.
In addition to the above articles, I have two one-pieces which I bought previous to giving birth to Hatchling. One is a cheapo that covers the important parts, but doesn't do anything spectacular for anything which it covers, and certainly doesn't draw the eye away from the parts it doesn't cover. The other is a cute little Ralph Lauren suit I picked up at the outlet mall. It is very chic, but I no longer have enough up top to pull it off. Or keep it on. A serious problem indeed.
Knowing that suits are on sale here in Arkansas, I took myself to Dillards and tried on many, many suits (read- 8... but really, there were only 8 left that were at all appropriate for my age and size), and I found the perfect
suit. Seriously, I haven't been this excited about a suit in YEARS.
I bought a tankini, but one with a long top which leaves no chance of stretch marks or saggy belly buttons being shown to the world. And the bottoms? They are a cute little skirt. I know, I'm totally a 90 year-old woman, but I love my little suit. I feel like I could go to a tea party, or the pool... who knows where I'll end up? I need some of those little clipitty high heels that old film stars wore to go with it... but I suppose those would be hard to walk in on the beach.
The most startling revelation I came to is about my boobs. I know, you don't hear about them often enough. They are so saggy and sad in their post- lactating and post- dieting stage that they need some serious help. I MUST have either a halter top or something with an underwire to hoist the poor things up to a respectable height. No suit with a built-in shelf bra is going to cut it anymore. It's very sad. Very, very sad. Alas, until L's ship comes in and I can have all of the elective plastic surgery a girl needs, I'll just have to stick with the aforementioned tops.
But who cares about saggy bodies? I'm going home! Home to Hawaii where I belong! Maybe the price of real estate has dropped and we can really move there this time...