|Me. (not really)|
Since it was my only bathing suit, it was time to get a new one. I’ve only ever had one bathing suit at a time, and when it starts to wear out, I replace it. That’s sort of been my method of operation for all my hard-to-find items. This is reflected by my closet, which is one of the most highly curated (meager) selections of clothing known to womankind.
I never thought it would be like this. When I was a little tomboy, I assumed that the desire to shop and wear perfume would decent upon me like puberty, and molars. I pictured a future rich with high heels, manhattans, and a perfume bottle with an atomizer for me to squeeze.
Little did I know that I would grow up clumsy (but adorable) with minimal make-up and mostly flat shoes. Still, I like pretty things. Which makes shopping even harder, since whatever I buy has to be perfect, and last for a long time.
‘Good luck in there!’ said the sales lady as she closed the door to my changing room. I’d come to a department store and had grabbed three swimsuits – a practical blue one piece, a polka dot tankini, and a saucy nautical number.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked her.
She explained that trying on bathing suits was super stressful, and most people have a rough time. Some even leave in tears. But I wasn’t feeling stressed, in fact I was pretty excited. Perhaps it’s because I don’t really feel like ‘most people’. For instance, most people don’t have Barbie breasts with no nipples. And most people my age don’t have a delightful little cleavage or a perfectly flat stomach which gives the illusion of abs of steel.
I must have done something marvelous in a past life, because all three bathing suits fit perfectly. Even the tankini, which I didn’t think I could wear. The nautical number was good too, even if I did resemble a Russian figure skater performing their free dance to the theme of ‘Gilligans Island’.
When I emerged form the changing room the saleslady was waiting for me. ‘How’d you do in there?’ she asked. I tossed everything triumphantly on the counter. She smiled, ‘So you’ll take all three?’
The question mark hung in the air. Would I? My intention was to buy just one – because that’s what I always did. But the practical me was silenced by another voice chatting in my head.
‘Oh lighten up!’ said the voice, fresh from a sip of her cocktail. ‘Have a bit of fun!’ Ignoring the voice, I checked the price tags and prepared to choose the one I like best. ‘Everyone loves a gal in polka dots,’ the voice continued, ‘Let’s buy them all!’
I was leaning towards the one piece, because it made the most sense. But the voice was having none of it, ‘No one ever got laid in a one-piece. Don’t be a dud. Take all three!’
I handed the salesgirl my credit card and smiled as though shopping was something I did all the time. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’ll take all three.’
And just like that I’d become the lady I always thought I should be – with a Visa bill and a bag of not-entirely practical clothes. One small step for womankind. One giant step for me.