Or a bathing suit. But we will get to that later. Lets back up to where I just spent 120 minutes in the pit of darkness.
In a department store dressing room.
Trying on bathing suits.
With a sea of choices laying before me from the labor day clearance.
Where I get the pick of what is leftover.
My cup overfloweth.
Actually, I overfloweth from the tops of these things.
I begin picking up bathing suits that are safe, 2 piece numbers that will give me some coverage (i.e. granny skirts and lots and lots of rouging) and hopefully slim me down and hide my triple layer tummy. As I am loading up the stroller with my selections while Cati hangs from the middle of an empty rack I realize I am in for a dressing room treat. Both girls confined to what I consider an anatomy confessional closet as I try on a litany of suits. At this point, Cati begins screaming that she needs to go pee pee (her words) and is scared she will go in her panties. I unload the stroller and we go to the bathroom that is 2.5 miles away on the other side of the store, though the housewares department. Cati finds public restrooms to be the most delightful experience. Cati's hygienic playground. I, however, can be a bit phobic about the germs lurking there to pounce on my daughters hind parts. So I am a bit anxious when nature calls for my Cati.
We leave without too much incident. I am confident of this since she told everyone in the vicinity that all her pee made it into the loo and not on the floor or her pants at her ankles.
We go in and I begin to try on these esteem depleting contraptions which just makes me a tad grumpy. And then there is Cati narrating the process. I had like 10 suits in there with me and I was going as fast as my fanny could roll in and out of those suits.
"Mommy, I want to go hooooooooooome."
"Mommy, is that your bra? What IS that? Your bra, Mommy?
"I want to put on a baby soup." (translation: bathing suit)
"Cati, these won't fit you. You are too little."
"Because your BIIIIIIIG Mommy?" Shoot me now.
"Yes, because I am big."
"Mommy, are these your panties or a baby soup?"
"Cati, can you kindly let me try on these bathing suits please?" And then my child proceeds to pants me. She thought it was hilarious. I did not, however since she did it right in front of the mirror so I got the full visual of her hilarious funny on Mommy.
"Cati, now where is my bra?" The dressing room is the size of a refrigerator but the brassiere is completely MIA. I am imagining myself having to walk out with these bathing suit tops that are waaaaay too small and I am considering topless is the most respectable option.
"Ummmm...is this it, Mommy?"
"No, Cati. That is a bathing suit." So not helping with confidence here.
"Ohhhh wait...heerrrrrre it issssss." And she reaches under the stroller in the basket underneath and whips out my underwear that actually looks like underwear. As she lassos it over her head, barely missing Ella's face who is sitting in the stroller, she wears a triumphant yet mischievous look on her face. I let it go.
After the pantsing and hide and seek bra fiasco, my hubby meets us and takes the girls for a healthy meal at the food court. I wrap up the torture of trying these wrongly sized suits on and finally decide to purchase two.
I am behind this 40's something woman, this petite, teeny little thing that you could put in your pocket. Her tank top had the tag sticking out with the XS taunting me. I overhear her (I am shamelessly eavesdropping) talking to the saleswoman at the register and she is saying how this suit looks like a bra. The saleslady tells her it is the hottest thing right now and they even have these lacy ones almost identical to our unmentionables. Which are clearly being mentioned on beaches and at swimming pools across America since they are sold out. I look at my purchases and wonder even if I had the XS tag hanging out of my shirt, would I parade our Florida beaches in what people may mistake for underwear? Not that there is much difference nowadays but I still wondered.
The extra small, pocket fitting lady then explains that she needs her husband's approval to purchase the suit which is is this adorable black and white suit. I would try to describe the pattern but I could not make it out due to the negligible amount of fabric available. But it was cute. Lots of strings, though. Lots and lots of strings. I digress.
So as I purchase these suits I think to myself that perhaps I need to reconsider the trauma of trying bathing suits on. I mean, if people are commenting that they look like underwear and then purchase them after gaining awareness of this fact, I might be glad I don't have a size zero body. My life is far too crazy to aspire to this.
Now my only aspirations are avoiding public pantsing by my three year old daughter.