So I was planning to go see Confessions of A Teenage Drama Queen, just because (for obvious reasons) I am interested in film adaptations of YA books. But the reviews are really bad: this one was particularly brutal. Ouch! But I’ll probably go anyway.
You know what else is brutal? Bathing suit shopping. Oh, my dear Lord. I went on Wednesday and I am only now able to talk about it.
So I’m at J. Crew, and it’s totally dead because it’s a Wednesday morning. The two salespeople are all bustling around and there’s a another guy with a clipboard, obviously from corporate, walking around checking the displays and looking official. I go in, take a deep breath, and start pulling bathing suits. Now, I haven’t bought a bathing suit since I was getting ready for my honeymoon almost four years ago, and while I haven’t changed drastically, I am four years older and well, you know. I have no idea what style to get—brief? boyshort? french-cut?—-and at J.Crew it’s twice as complicated because you can mix and match the tops and bottoms to put together what you want. Only after I had, literally, about fifteen bathing suits did the guy from corporate approach me and say, “Can I start a dressing room for you?” And off he goes with my suits and his clipboard. Then I pulled a few more, braced myself, and went in.
Let me say this first: does there HAVE to be flourescent lighting in dressing rooms? And then, let me say this: does ANYONE look GOOD under flourescent lighting? I don’t think so. Especially not in February, when your skin hasn’t seen the sun in months. I’ll say it again: Oh, my dear Lord. So freaking depressing. If you want specifics, NONE of the suits I tried on looked good. Not a one! So I put on my clothes, gather them all up, and go back out.
“Any of those work for you, ma’am?” Clipboard asks as I emerge. (The ma’am was a nice touch.) I said, “Oh, no, this is the second round.” So I pull a bunch more, feeling totally defeated: I’m beginning to think that you really have to be five-ten and hipless to look good in a J.Crew bathing suit. (And by hipless, I mean, without hips, not unhip. Because unhip, believe me, I am.)
Then, though, right as I’m going back to the dressing room, I see it. This little blue suit, kind of cute: I swear it wasn’t there before. It’s like it just appeared by magic. (Or, they just stuck in on the rack. Whatever.) So I grab it. Go in. Try it on. And it doesn’t look that bad. I also tried on this little cocoa colored top that I really liked, but couldn’t find a bottom that matched. Turns out you can order the bottom I liked from the catalog. So I end up with two suits, neither of are totally horrible. Which is really the best you can expect when you’re bathing suit shopping.
(Reading over this, I fear that I am turning into Kathy, from that comic strip. Again: Oh, my dear Lord. I’m going back to bed now.)
Have a good day everyone!