Magic Swimsuit

Do you ever feel like you’re a magnet for embarrassment? No? Just me. Good to know. I feel like there must be a special realm of reality outside of actual reality and the reality of the certifiably insane, where absurdity wrecks havoc and that is where I must exist.

My oldest is taking swim lessons at the rec center which in itself is awesome. Nothing makes me prouder than seeing my children learn new things. It was the coolest thing in the world to watch him grin when his teacher glided him through the water. My heart has never been more proud of him for trying something new, something that even terrifies grown adults.

Yesterday I rushed from my office in my work clothes to pick up the kids from preschool to be ready for swim lessons right at six o’clock. ON. THE. DOT. My fear of being late is amplified ten times whenever I have the kids with me.

I carried my oversized purse, a gym bag, two towels, and my daughter in one arm while I held my son’s hand through the parking lot. We made it in well before 6pm and I sighed a big giant sight of relief.

I changed out of my trousers and button up shirt and stepped out of the high heels I had stupidly worn that day. The only swimsuit I could find that morning was one from college, you know, before kids and when I was about thirty pounds heavier. To my amazement (or maybe sadness?) it fit great. I mean God is pretty unforgiving in the looks department after pregnancy but that could just be me. This suit was a two-piece tankini from the junior’s department at Target. The size on the tag is pretty far down in the alphabet, if you know what I’m saying. But, alas, I couldn’t find other suits anywhere.

Not to brag, but damn, I looked good. Sure the bottoms were granny style and hiked up to my belly button and the top plunged almost to my navel, but daaaaaaaaaaang, it just kinda worked. That bathing suit must be magic. It sucked my fat in the right places and held “things” ahem, perky. Daaaaaaaang.

I admired myself in the mirror for what was probably longer than is socially acceptable before I got redressed when swim lessons were over. By then it was pushing seven o’clock and tummies were getting hungry so I hurried us along as quickly as I could and threw my bags back over my shoulders with my wet towels and what I thought was both pieces of my newly discovered magic swim suit. Being the genius that I am I try to finangle my keys out of my bag while holding said towels, swim suit, and squirmy toddler while walking, because setting things down is for pussies.

We make it almost to the parking lot when I get the sinking feeling that something isn’t right and that knowing panic set in my stomach. I shook the pile of towels and ONE single piece of my swim suit, which of course is not the granny-panty-style-one-size-too-big-almost-a-decade-old-magic swim bottoms. I look around and they aren’t around.

Now I stop for one second, mortified already, and weighed whether it was worth going back to look for them or if I just scrap it. But I’m cheap, and like I said before, daaaaaaaaaang, that swim suit is b-a-n-a-n-a-s and there’s no way in hell I’m going to give up that magic instant hot-body look.

So, I pushed my sun glasses up higher on my face and turned around to collect the magic bottoms wherever they may have landed. First I scour the ground with my eyes looking for a ball of black material somewhere but at first I don’t see them. Then it dawns on me that maybe someone has already picked up my magic whale-size bottoms and the horror sets in.

I glance closer to the door and I see them crumpled by the door…. Three feet from what has to be Zac Efron’s cousin only taller/darker and (if you can believe it) better looking. AND HE’S BENDING DOWN TO PICK UP MY SWIM BOTTOMS THAT ARE AS WIDE AS THE MOON…. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

But it was too late. He sort of scooped them with his pointer finger and I swear, he did that lip curl disgust look like he had just thrown up a little bit in his mouth.

And then I really did throw up in my mouth.

I politely smiled and snatched them out of his hand and said, “thank you.” I didn’t look back.

I hope Zac Efron trips on a treadmill.