So as I mentioned in an earlier post I’m going on this Brandcation #SeastheDay Royal Caribbean Cruise so I need a bathing suit. I hate swimsuit shopping because let’s face it, I’m short and fat. It’s really hard for me to find something that fits. I usually like to wear what is called a “Shortini” which means a tankini top and spandex shorts underneath. Apparently this style has somewhat gone out of style so I’ve been searching for an alternative. My search has lead me to a place I never expected, Walmart.
Although I wanted to purchase the suit online due to more print choices I wanted to try it on for size. So out of the house I ventured to my local Walmart. Once I get there I drive around and around looking for a parking spot. Oh wait, I forgot to tell you, this is the Walmart where the alligator took up shop at the entrance, remember that story? But I digress, okay so I’m driving around and finally I see a spot. But then the woman getting into her car next to the spot sees me waiting there and pushes her cart right into the middle of that spot. So now I can’t pull in. So what does “sassy” Lee do next?
Sassy Lee sits behind the ladies car so she can’t back out. That’s what Sassy Lee does. Yep I sat there for a good 3 minutes while she tried backing out. She would honk at me and I’d honk back twice as loud. I was not going to budge until she moved that damn cart! I was making “move the cart” charades and I know she could see me. But she wasn’t going to budge either. Moments later about 10 cars were honking for me to move. Luckily for them an even closer spot opened up ahead and I took that one, but I wouldn’t have budged otherwise. When I relayed this story to Jackie she said she would have parked behind the lady, gotten out of the car and moved the cart behind her car then pulled into the parking spot. This was genius and I wish I’d thought of it.
So I walk into the store and find the bathing suit section and the suit I’m looking for fairly quickly. I grab two sizes and some board shorts and walk towards the fitting rooms. Now usually I never try on anything in a store, I bring it home and try it on and return whatever I don’t want. But I just had a pretty expensive “try on at home” trip to Target so this was my better bet if I didn’t want to hear Tim screaming. So where was I, oh yes, I was walking into the fitting room. The attendant is this sweet old lady, like at least 70, and she asks me how many items have and I tell her 5. But she looks at me likes she doesn’t believe me so I show her again, 5. She realizes that I have swim suits and she leans in and says in this super Grandmotherly way “Now, don’t forget to keep your panties on”. Classic.
As I walk into the dressing room wondering who would possibly not wear underwear when trying on a Walmart swimsuit I begin undressing. I put on the first bathing suit and it’s a bit too tight so I move on to the next. The second swimsuit in the bigger size fits better and I do the little turn around, make sure everything is tucked into place and not hanging out. I’m pleased so I begin to peel it off. Suddenly I’m in unimaginable pain. The hygiene sticker from the crotch of the suit has become stuck to my bikini line.
Now ladies, I might live in Florida, but it’s still winter time so not a ton of landscaping has been done in the down low. Keeping in mind I’m wearing “my panties” I still have a strong piece of tape attached to my body. I can barely move, the pain is white out ready. All I’m thinking is “Owww Kelly Clarkson“. So my mind is going in circles figuring out how to get itself out of this situation. I mean do I leave it and just go home and hope for the best with a pair of scissors? That sounds painful. No way was I asked Grandma for help. Finally I did what any person with a piece of duct tape stuck to their crotch would have to do and I ripped it off.
Ho-Lee-Shit. Yep, that hair is going to be scared to grow back. It was worse than the Brazilian wax I once had done. Maybe because I was in a precarious position and oh yeah, hadn’t taken two ibuprofen. I was told if you are highly ticklish waxes won’t hurt as much because your body can’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain and it actually did work for me the time before. Well apparently my body did not think this was funny because it hurt. There was quite a bit of hair on this thing when all was said and done so I just balled it up and put it in my purse. Now when I clean my purse out in a few weeks I’ll get PTSD.
I could not get out of that store fast enough, it was as if my ass were on fire. No pun intended. The entire ordeal makes me never want to shop at Walmart and it isn’t really their fault. But PTSD like I said, it’s a scary thing. Oh and here is a picture of the culprit suit above. Now I must be going. My shower is calling, I need to do the other side so I won’t look unbalanced.