crimes of anatomy

Eli is on vacation so we made plans to go to the beach this week. But when I went to try on my bathing suit last weekend, it didn’t fit. I shouldn’t be surprised, since I bought the suit before I had a baby, and it has padding in the top because my body used to be different back then. The bottom still fits but the top is like a boob vice. The material crushes my flesh and the happy little underwire shoves my boobs up so much they spill out the top in a way that is just not wholesome. I look like something you’d find in a dark club twirling around on a stage against a brass pole in stilettos. I am someone’s mother. I cannot wear this shit to the beach.

And of course after seeing myself in a bathing suit I went directly to the treadmill and decided that I would stay on it until I came up with: 1) a reason to explain how I could have let this happen and 2) a plan to reclaim my body

I didn’t come up with any explanations except that maybe I shouldn’t eat things that taste good all the time and then I resolved myself to the fact that I do not deserve more than one meal a day and that meal will be water and air until I can get my boobs into my bikini.

But since I can’t drop ten pounds in one day no matter how much I exercise and drink water, I had to suck it up and buy a new bathing suit. Shopping for a bathing suit is right up there with attending mass on my list of things I hate to do. Luckily, the first suit I tried on was perfect and even though I continued to try on about sixty different suits at two different stores looking for something that would magically transform my body into a size four, I came home happy.

Though I did beat myself up a little bit over the whole thing. Until I got to the beach and witnessed severe crimes of anatomy happening all around me. I really think some people are just so comfortable with their bodies that they don’t care about showing their fat off to the world. Either that or they have the opposite of body dysmorphic disorder so when they look into the mirror they do not see four extra inches of pasty flesh rolling over their bikini bottom. Anyway, I felt pretty hot on the beach, but considering this is New England and not Miami I should stop congratulating myself for being the least fat fatty on the beach and get my ass on the treadmill.

Joey loved the beach. Just like I knew he would. The ocean was too cold for swimming but we found a nice warm tide pool to swim in. Until Joey released a turd into it and we had to abandon pool. We were standing there in the knee deep water when Eli looked down and said, “Hey, something just floated out of Joey’s diaper, it’s right near your foot.” And sure enough, the kid had violated the only rule of beach etiquette. You can pee in the water, but no droppin' brownies!

We also found a worm in the tidepool and while all the other little kids were busy shrieking and trying to get away and losing their candy asses over it, Joey walked up, grabbed it and put it in his mouth because he is not scared of a damn thing. He ran into the freezing cold ocean water up to his neck, walked right into the middle of groups of kids making sandcastles to get in on the action, and when we were leaving, he announced it to the world by yelling “Bye” and waving from atop Eli’s shoulders to everyone we passed on our way to the car. Like a little Miss America and Eli was his float. Children are so wonderfully self obsessed. Like anyone cares that another little sand kicker is leaving to go home.

But we had an excellent day and we'll probably all sleep for fifteen hours tonight because fresh air is exhausting.