Hey it’s June, it’s summer, yay, blah blah blah. Annie’s last day of preschool is TODAY and she’s got a full summer of swimming ahead of her. I mean that literally: I have her signed up for weeks and weeks of swim lessons. This requires us being at the pool at 9 am Monday through Friday…I obviously wasn’t in my right mind when I signed up for this. But you know, hurray for lifesaving skills that lead to afternoon lethargy!

She’s also been invited to a bunch of swim parties already, and my enthusiasm for those is in the 0-10% region. 10% because I like when Annie spends time with her friends. 0% because, despite how good a swimmer Annie is, she’s only four, and that means I have to be ready to go in the water at any time. That means wearing a bathing suit…which means buying a bathing suit.

I’ve been wearing the same bathing suit for a few years. It’s now too-big and when it’s wet I get saggy bottom like whoa. Still, I dread buying a new suit not because of the process of trying them on, but because of the process of actually wearing a suit. Because it’s A Process.

There’s just, ugh, so much that goes into literally wearing a bathing suit. I don’t even care about my weight or flabbiness. I own it because I am currently choosing to do very little to change said weight and flabbiness. To be fair, it helps that I busted my butt last fall before we went to Hawaii and I’m still riding the coattails of that hard work. But my body’s shape is at the bottom of my list. There are other important things, like grooming, or my own personal slice of hell, sunscreen application.

I am a fanatic about sun exposure. I’m covered in freckles, or as I like to call them, Ticking Cancer Time Bombs. But I absolutely hate putting on sunscreen. I hate how sticky it is. I hate that I have to contort my body to apply it. I hate how I ALWAYS MISS ONE FREAKING SPOT. I hate how my kids scream the entire time I cover them in it. I hate how James is so pale he uses up half a bottle of sunscreen in one application.

If it were up to me, I’d stay inside all day and swim at night, but my kids don’t want to live like vampires (lame). I told Mike I’m going to invest in one of those tourist parasols and some full-body swimwear. He laughed but he hasn’t seen my search history. I feel like he and Annabel just have to see how good I’d look.


I’m so jealous of fictitious me.

Look how jaunty that outfit is! I could even wear heels. SO much better than a rash guard and visor.