I’m trying to give myself no more than 30 minutes to write my posts here.  I don’t want to tweak and tweak things before hitting “publish” because I already carry a giant red pen in my mind.  I’m trying to ignore the pen more and I figure this is a baby step.  But that is not what this post is about.

I like to think about my day (days, life) in the shower and whatever pops into my head first is almost always the thing I’ve been secretly mulling over, almost without realizing it.  When I sat down at the computer today all that came to my mind was how much I hate a swim suit.  I have nearly always hated them and I realize what that says about me, so you don’t have to tell me.

Yesterday I went to Target to buy a new one because I haven’t purchased a swimsuit in 6 years and I haven’t worn one in a little over three.  Plus I’m solidly in my 30’s now and, yes, I heard that 30 is the new 20 but my body didn’t get the memo.  No one’s body got that memo except for Jennifer Aniston’s.

I grabbed a bunch of black suits with cute (sad) little skirts and tried them on in under 15 minutes.  I know it only took that long because my sister had the kids with her and they had only just sat down in the Target cafe with their dollar box of cheddar crackers.  They were clearly not prepared to see me so soon.

I brought the swim suit home, neither happy nor sad, and then watched dully as our puppy grabbed it off the couch and ran.  I chased her in slow-mo, thinking to myself, What if she puts holes in it?  I should feel stressed about that $40 but I don’t.  Hmmm.

This morning the kids wanted to swim, so I shaved my alabaster legs and put on the suit.  You know that you’ve made an impression on your kids when they all declare, in high-pitched voices tinged with bright falsehood, “Mom, you’re wearing a swim suit!  A plain black swim suit!  You look great!  It’s fun to see you wearing a real swim suit!”

And then something shifted–you might say, snapped.  After I’d had the suit on for, like, 30 minutes I suddenly decided I just don’t care anymore (at least for today) whether I look OK in it or not.  The kids had gotten tired of swimming, but still wanted to be outside, and I starting playing T-ball in the suit.  The puppy and the kids and I were running laps around the bases in our backyard, cars whizzing by–except that the kids were now clothed and I was still wearing the suit.  I had, apparently, lost my mind.  I felt breeze and sun above my knees–where breeze and sun has not been in six years. 

But it was weirdly OK, because I was floating above my body, fists pumping, trying to make it home.


3 thoughts on “Forgetting

  1. Peacho says:

    haaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! You should always make yourself write fast. This was fantastic and hilarious from start to finish. I love how you use commas. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don’t. It always accomplishes the perfect voice.


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