Mom Suit Monday.

Yesterday I tried on my new bathing suit so Robbie could see it.

He studied me for what seemed like forever before he said, and I quote, “Hmmm.

I then explained why THAT is why women get frustrated with men. If I walk out in a bathing suit, whether I look God-awful or not-too-awful, you absolutely cannot say “Hmmm.” You must find one thing that you like about what you see, and say that thing out loud. For example, “I like your shoulders in that bathing suit. You look nice.


He said the reason why he didn’t say anything is because he wasn’t thinking anything. How can this be?! I will never understand. Just like he will never understand how I think about five different things all at the same time. It must be nice to look at someone wearing a dresskini and think absolutely nothing. How can someone not think anything when faced with that?! IT’S CALLED A DRESSKINI, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

I submit that he is lying.

He wanted to know why I can’t just wear a bikini. My facial expression must have led him to follow up with, “You could always get one of those see-through cover up thingies.” And you know, he might be onto something. Is it better to wear a total mom suit, or just rock it in a bikini with some sort of cover up? It’s not like I’m going to look like a fitness model either way, and trying to use the bathroom with a one-piece on really sucks.

As I stood there in gripped in spandex ruffles, I told him I’m trying to be practical. As far as wrangling kids in the pool, I don’t think a bikini’s going to work. Someone, somewhere, would see something they would never be able to un-see. But if he takes me on a vacation … or sends me to a magical spa where a thousand tiny hands can beat the cellulite off me … or to a surgeon to make miracles happen … I will consider it.

Until then, a mom suit it is. And possibly a wide-brimmed hat.