That evil called...

Swim suits. One of the single expensive (considering the total real estate that you're purchasing), controversial, revealing, truthful, elitest, and entitled pieces of clothing you can own. I hate them. With every fibre of my being, I hate them. I am not made for that world (even though I'm a closet surfer, as you know). I'm a prop – a front row. I'm designed like a semi-truck not a Ferrari. Have you ever seen a two piece look good on a semi-truck? Didn't think so. So you can understand why my reaction might be one of...

Sick, gross, blah, ugh, barf, nasty, putressance (however you spell that).

But I'm backed into a corner, seemingly – fighting for my life. In sixteen days I will be flying to sunny Jamaica (just 28 degrees today and rainy) for two weeks. I'll get into why in another post. For now – It's all about standing up and voicing how much of a swim suit hater I am. But soon I will have little choice but tank top and shorts or brave the suit on the beach. You stand out pretty fast if you're the only one wearing the tank and short. I don't really have to deal with this kind of stuff. I hate swimming...which might actually have to do with the hatred I have for the apparel of said activity but you don't have to swim at waterparks or in hot tubs. Granted, I don't often find myself at the former and with the latter – well, one can pretty easily get around it. I either wear tank tops and suck it up or wear my nasty old swim suit. 
 

Beyond Sportchek – I have never darkened the door of a Swimco. ...ever. I've never even thought of it – there's been no reason – I can't wear bikinis and look horrible in every other thing that resembles a swim suit. Why would there be any reason? Except for Jamaica. I think it's crazy to go to Jamaica without a swim suit – even if all you're doing is sitting on a beach or climbing Dunn's River Falls – you need a swim suit. And so yesterday, I found myself standing infront of Swimco. I'm sure the Sales' Associate read it all over my face. This was a store of doom. It was a harbinger of unadulterated truths. And I was standing on it's threshold. I walked in, playing it cool but the truth is – I had no idea even where to start. The happy, sweet sale associate approached. I thought to myself – great, just another size 2 who has no idea what it's like to be a brick house.

And then the strangest thing happened. I told her the truth. I told her about my insecurities and how uncomfortable I was with the whole deal. I did the thing that I rarely ever do...I was vulnerable...to a complete stranger – in a swim suit shop. Madness. I think this is less about me actually finding a swim suit and more about how amazing the Sales Associate was. I've never been helped like that before by someone in retail. This is a fairly big statement but I think the world would actually be a better place if there were more people like Terri from Swimco. 
 

And yes, I did let the Powers That Be about her.