So, Moxie has requested that we all describe what our Thursdays were like. I will play along (even though I can't remember if I've ever delurked on her blog) because I actually did something today other than work, eat, and sleep.
I started with work, of course. This week is not a very busy one, but I still managed to leave half an hour later than I planned.
My mission for the afternoon was to find a bathing suit. (Do you enjoy shopping for bathing suits? I most emphatically do not. First of all, eyeing my pale, cellulite riddled body critically under fluorescent lighting whilst trying on a series of unflattering suits is torture enough. Add to this the fact that I find the "sanitary liner" strip as skin-crawlingly disgusting as . . . well, the alternative, I suppose. I do not need a reminder that other people have also tried on these very suits! Possibly without any undergarments! And how much good is that little paper strip, truly, when it comes to preventing transfer of cooties? And then when you get the bathing suit home you have to remove the (presumably contaminated, otherwise why would it exist?) liner. With your own hands! (When it came time to do this I yelled down the stairs to Al, "Bring me some rubber gloves." His response, "This can't be good.") Then, of course, you wash the bathing suit before you wear it. But how do you wash it? In cold water with a very mild detergent and then you hang it to drip dry??? Yeah, me too. Bathing suits aren't cheap and they are very delicate. You certainly wouldn't pour a cup of bleach into the wash with it. But how is cold water going to get rid of the cooties? About as well as the paper strip prevents them is my guess.
The impetus behind this traumatic search for a new bathing suit is that Al and I are going on vacation! To the beach! Hooray! So my evening was spent doing laundry and cleaning the house and organizing things that I will pack tomorrow. I am an over packer. I try to pare down, but, really, how do I know which book I will be in the mood to read? Which clothes I will not hate too much to leave the house wearing? Which shoes I will need for those clothes? What if we want to play backgammon? Or bocce?
I am truly looking forward to this trip. The last time I went to the beach I came home full of hope that we will find a way to move forward and become parents. I could use another shot of that.
While I am gone I will not be able to check any of the blogs I read. I will be thinking of all of you, though. Particularly Thalia, waiting to hear what could be either wonderful or terrible news; Cecily, with little Tori's birth imminent; and Karen, struggling to decide whether and how to keep blogging (selfishly, I wish she would continue just as before . . . I don't want to miss the post when she finally gets Maya's referral, and then Maya!).
An aside: It may seem like I do a great deal of shopping, since scrolling back through my entries I do mention it several times. The thing is, I don't shop that often but I have reported every single shopping excursion I have undertaken since I started this blog, even though I do not maintain that level of commitment to blogging about anything else. Why?)
A confession: In the dressing room of the last store I was in today I found maternity clothes left behind by a previous shopper. Cute, summery maternity clothes. In my size. So I tried them on. How mentally ill does that make me? I put on the melon colored empire waist shirt and the soft green shorts with the big elastic belly band (so comfy) and I poked out my stomach to look like a bump (I wish it had been more of a stretch). I looked cute. Much better than I looked in the bathing suit. Then I freaked out and got out of them as fast as I could. I hope I haven't permanently jinxed myself.
2 comments:
Umm, I think you're a teensy bit paranoid about the cooties. All you might get is a tiny bit of someone else's skin cells that have rubbed off on the fabric. Along with whatever was on their skin. Any detergent will remove it.
Hope you had a good break. And that you enjoyed wearing the swimsuit anyway!
Well, um, yeah, um, totally paranoid. My actual point (though I don't know if it came across at all) is that it is the *sanitary liner* itself that gets me all worked up. I don't think I would give the cooties a thought otherwise. But these liners (to me) simultaneously conjure the thoughts (1) there must be a horrible lurking danger from trying on bathing suits which manufacturers feel the need to protect us from and (2) no way in hell is this little strip of paper protecting anyone from anything. So, I come a bit undone.
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