A DRY BIKINI
I own (correction, owned) a periwinkle bikini from Old Navy that I bought when George W. Bush was in the White House. So yeah, I’ve had it for a while. But it fit. Was a good colour on me. Never rode up the gluteus maximus mountains like so many do.
So why replace it, right? It’s not like the seam was coming undone.
My fashion forward mother disagreed. So did my sister. If there’s a country song in here somewhere it’s called, “Get Rid of That Thing” which I heard summer after summer.
So I did, last October. Donated it to Goodwill and felt like I’d abandoned a trusty old friend. Roll your eyes –sure, but there’s probably a Prince t-shirt in your closet from 1999.
Anyway, in October you’re not thinking about summer. And come April and May when stores are replete with swimsuits, I’m not thinking geez I should get one of those. It’s slipped my mind altogether that I’m summer suit less until I make plans to go to my friend’s cottage on Lake Huron and realize I’ve got less than a week to find something decent.
Most brushes with swimwear shopping leave you feeling – come on ladies, nod along here with me – like you’ve entered the Twilight Zone and florescent lighting doesn’t help. There’s a degree of psychological horror and suspense: please god let this fit me and what the hell is that as you try to maneuver body parts into sections that are meant to hold but don’t quite. At this point in the dressing room I’m cursing my mother and sister for making me get rid of Trusty Blue.
In my running around I did manage to find a minty striped bottom, with the hope of finding a top someplace else. Just days before we’re Huron bound, there’s no top and this is no French beach we’re going to.
So I took one last look in La Vie En Rose which is a Canadian lingerie retailer that also sells some oh la la swimwear. I entered the store with an expression that can only be described in Star Wars-speak:
Lady, you’re my only hope.
The Welsh salesgirl set to work and pulled out all kinds of numbers and, to my surprise, found me a mint green top that fit and matched perfectly including a black n’ white striped piece that is, well, more Cozumel than cottage if you know what I mean. It’s as if Samantha Jones dropped from the New York sky and put that bikini straight in her hands.
Can’t you just hear her now in that sultry voice of hers: “Now this is a bikini.”
After all that, you’ll be disappointed to know that the weather in Kingsbridge, Ontario hovering between 10 and 20 Celsius didn’t call for anything sultry and that is how I ended up with a dry bikini. Somehow though, Rene and I both managed to get sunburnt with real attractive short and t-shirt marks. I suppose the lesson here, friends, is lather up with sunscreen even when it’s cool by the water and put on the darn suit. If you’re going to get sunburned streaky lines, at least let them be sexy.
Anyway, we enjoyed Shannan’s hospitality once again and got to meet Selly, a volunteer from Toronto who assisted in the care of Bear’s four 4-week old lab pups. Rene (and his step-in assistant Selly) cooked a delicious quinoa and sweet potato pan-fried cake with garlic aioli and greens – a very delicious and bikini-approved meal.
Love to all