I’ve been lying on a lounge chair at the neighborhood pool for
three hours and fifteen minutes
– and I’m not getting up.
I’ve been lying on a lounge chair at the neighborhood pool for three hours and fifteen minutes – and I’m not getting up.
Call me wild and crazy, but a couple weeks ago I gave in and purchased the tankini, a two-piece bathing suit with the “tank” being the top and the “ini” being the bottom.
This really shocked my family, since they’ve never seen me in a two-piece bathing suit – the last time I wore a two-piece, it had cute little fishies on it, and I was propped up in a plastic wading pool sucking my thumb.
I never follow trends and I still can’t figure out what possessed me to follow this one. Maybe it was the thrill of finally taking off a few pounds during the long winter months. Maybe it was the excitement of the start of a new summer. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to stave off middle age. But I have a hunch it was one of those impulse purchases people are always warning me about.
My friend Julie once went into a discount store for one pack of film and came out with a light-up moon globe, a food dehydrator, a John Tesh CD and a Chia Pet.
I never understood how this could happen to someone as sane and intelligent as Julie until the day I was strolling through a department store aisle and saw a rack of two-piece bathing suits, with pictures of a supermodel fastened onto the tags and a big sign that said “30% OFF.” I could’ve walked around it, but the thought immediately flashed through my mind that if I bought a tankini right now, I could save money and have the same bathing suit as a supermodel. Plus, all of my problems would be solved, the house would stay clean, the laundry would be finished and I would probably have better thighs. In the heat of the moment I grabbed a suit off the rack and brought it to the cashier. This was my first big mistake.
My second one was showing it to my children when I got home.
“What’s that?” my daughter asked. “Some kind of sling shot?”
“Very funny,” I said. Then I went to my room, tried it on, and walked into the living room to show my family.
“What do you think?” I asked.
I bet they would’ve told me if they could have stopped laughing long enough to speak.
I looked in the mirror and decided it didn’t look too bad. Besides, this season might be the last chance I had to wear a two-piece suit before I never dared again.
So, on the first warm day of the summer season, if not official summer, I wore it to the neighborhood pool.
It was great. I felt young, slim and sexy. Then I took off my robe.
I quickly dove into the lounge chair and covered myself up with the towel.
“What are you doing, Honey?” my husband asked.
“What does it look like? I’m showing off my new suit,” I said.
As I watched my family go into the pool, I tried to convince myself that if I lay really still and kept my eyes focused on my book, no one would see me.
But how do you explain to your children that you can’t go into the pool with them because if you so much as move an inch, everyone would notice your flabby, white stomach and know that it hasn’t seen the light of day since the summer of ’78, and you are definitely not qualified to wear a tankini?
So I’ve been lying on a lounge chair for three hours and fifteen minutes, and I’m not getting up – but I’m working on it.
Debbie Farmer is a humorist and a mother holding down the fort in California, and the author of Don’t Put Lipstick on the Cat. You can reach her at [email protected].
