I went out at lunch to find my daughter some waterproof sandals, as we will be going on a little up-north family resort vacay in 10 days and I'm trying to tie up all the loose ends. How this morphed into "K buys a tiny bikini" is beyond me - cuz if you know me, you know I've never worn a bikini in all my 38 years. Unless you count a tankini - the respectable mom version - which (you probably know) is like a one piece that's easily disassembled when you have to pee. And once you have a baby that may be something you need to take into consideration :-)
Admittedly, the new suit is a feat of infrastructure. Somehow, it manages to be almost non-existent and still supportive of the boobs. And it's orange. Like, burnt orange. (Did I mention it reveals, like, my entire stomach? Did I mention I'm 38 and I have a kid? Did I mention I'm experimenting with anti-cellulite goo?) The top is underwire (naturally) but not so that you'd notice. Nor is it one of those underwire tops that has a band underneath it obscuring the underwire. This is counterintuitive, I realize. The triangle fabric is ample (naturally). And the bottoms are somewhat like the ones Halle Berry wore in that Bond film (the homage to Ursula Andress) (see above). Really, the whole thing is a rip off of the swimsuit Ms. Berry wore.
Somehow, I think it looks great on me. Of course, I could be deranged. But I'm willing to take the chance as my primary audience will be children under the age of 10 and their harried, mid-forties parents who have averaged 3 kids each. I figure, between their fatigue and my relative youth, I'm not likely to be the worst looking one of the bunch. I am slightly concerned about the mass of my pallor refracting northern sunlight into laser beams that seek out small, fast moving objects. Cuz I don't need that karma, you know?