Decided to go bathers shopping today. I remember a time when I could walk in, buy off the shelf and look good!
Anywho three children, 30+kg and zero workouts later I walked into Bras n Things where I was greeted by an Amazonian 19-year-old.
“Hello, looking for bathers?”
“Yes. Do you stock anything in size “fat chick”?”
*girly giggle* I’m pretty sure we have stuff in your size – are you a 14? That’s the biggest we stock!”
Okay so said Victoria’s Secret model already has me pegged as the fattest end of what she can serve. She was pretty good on the guess though although I’m pretty sure she was just thinking she’d better squeeze this walrus into whatevs and make a sale.
“Yep, large end of size 12, small to medium end of size fourteen,” I tell her
“Oh goodie!” She squeals and proceeds to start pulling triangle bikinis off the shelf.
I feel bad interrupting her enthusiasm but I also feel the need to intervene.
“Uh, darl?” I ask “I’m gonna need two of those triangles to even cover a boob. How bout a one piece?”
“Oh.” She says, crestfallen. We’ve only got a couple of those she says and lifts up a pair with a shitload of cutouts and no back.
“Got anything less revealing? Kinda plainish?” I ask her.
Her face drops again. “Yeah there’s a couple of pairs, head on into the change room and I’ll bring them to you”
By this point, Summer has been standing in the same spot for more than thirty seconds so the shit has hit the fan but we head on down there to the dulcet tones of her screaming.
I strip down to my knickknacks. There’s a fricking mirror in here. Wtf really?! Ew. I turn to face the curtain and then realise when Giselle Bundchen the serving wench walks in she’s gonna get a reflective view of my huge arse.
So I kind of lift up my trackies to cover my butt and hold the curtain to the wall so I can peer out and grab the togs without Jennifer Hawken coming in.
Here she comes. Her face transfixed in a glamorous smile. Contoured to the shithouse and wearing more makeup than an entire Maybelline display shelf she struts the store towards the change room carrying two huge pairs of bathers.
She passes me a pair of bathers in a hippy print. “Oh good,” I think “these might do”
I close the curtain and take a better look. There’s fucking cutouts down the side and I’m wondering if I get a discount for the back of the bathers being missing.
“They’re Playboy brand” Tyra Banks chirps from behind the curtain.
You’ve got to be kidding me. Me? In Playboy brand. This is a frigging joke.
“Erm, can I try the other pair?” I ask.
“Nuh, uh” she trills. “Not ’til you’ve tried on the Playboys. I think they’ll be perfect.”
Resigned, I slide the skanktastic playboy togs on. I have to actually take off my bra to get these babies over my norgs. I look like something off the cover of “FHM- Sumo Edition”. Fuck no. These are coming off.
Too late. Kate Moss barges in.
“Ohhhhh myyy Gawwwd” she drawls “You look totes hot!”
Clearly, Lara Bingle here is blind.
“I love your side boob! Guys love side boob you know!”
Heidi Klum has clearly not noticed the texta covered three-year-old at my feet. She thinks I need to show guys my side boob.
“Yeah the side boob is cool.” I tell her so I don’t hurt her feelings. “It’s the side flab I’m worried about. Do you have another pair?”
She rolls her eyes. “Just one more pair but they’re Boooooooooring.” She complains.
“That’s cool. I do boring pretty well.” I tell her and take the boring bathers from her outstretched, manicured clutches.
Okay, these look pretty good. Not too over the top, basic pattern. Yep boring is me. So I try them on.
Whilst this pair have more back than the previous pair, this pair has a distinct lack of arse covering. Unfortunately for me I have an arse like Beyoncé. If Beyoncé were in the same weight range as a small truck. Another fuck no.
Quiet as a mouse I slip out of the togs and back into my trackies before Miranda Kerr walks in again.
“Thank you!” I say bursting out from behind the curtain. “Looks like I’m not only fat but I’m also old. These are a bit too young for a 33-year-old.”
“33?!” Christie Brinkley inhales “Maybe try, like, Millers or something.” I thank her and head out. I am not shopping at fricking Millers.
On the corner I see a planet surf. “oh what the fuck?” I think. “I’ve already been humiliated once.”
I walk in and am greeted by a burly, red-haired, bearded dude with ear plugs and a hat.
“Hey, looking for something particular?” He asks.
Dear Gods, now I’m going to be humiliated by a bloke. Awesome.
“Umm, yeah, bathers” I tell him reluctantly.
He looks me up and down once. “Size fourteen D cup? One or two piece?”
I’m shellshocked – dude even picked my cup size under my daggy jumper. “Err, one piece dude. I’m pretty sure I’ll be fined for public indecency in anything else.”
Beardie laughs. There’s a couple that’ll suit you. I’ll bring em.
I go to the change rooms. Oh good. Lockable doors not curtains.
“Okay I’m approaching so don’t flip out” beardie calls “I’ll just launch these over the door”
Two pairs of bathers appear. One plain black with moulded cups, the other a very low cut dark blue with a nice floral pattern. Surprisingly both look decent on but as I’m old I decide to leave my boobs in and go for the black bathing suit.
Walking out I thank him and he says “No worries, I like picking clothes for people.”
“And hey” he calls out as I exit the shop “In here the guys like the ‘real’ ladies so send your friends to us!!”
So need bathers? Go to Planet Surf unless you wanna go to Bras n Things and look like a Hugh Hefner reject…
This was written by the hilarious Erin Pearson and published with her permission. You can find the original post here