Rethinking the Honeymoon

Whoever the dumb-dumb is that came up with the concept that honeymoons should be in warm, tropical locations rather than a place like Antarctica really needs to be shot and killed and tortured and maimed and have other really bad things happen to him. It had to be a him. A her wouldn't have done it, because a her would know that then she'd need to go buy a swimsuit for the tropical excursion and nothing brings out women's body issues quite like going out to the store and searching for a new swimsuit.

Yes, I've been working out with a trainer. Yes, I've been making good progress to look kick-ass in the dress. But the thing is when you're wearing a poofy white dress you can completely ignore your thighs. Because no one sees your thighs in a wedding dress, but EVERYONE sees them in a bathing suit. Especially when you have pale, pasty white skin that will blind people with the sun reflecting off of them.

Last night I mentioned the not-fun I was going to have in the search for the suit, and he sweetly said that I would look fabulous in any sort of bathing suit. He doesn't understand that thighs grow LARGER in a swimsuit than they are when you are naked.

I started the search this weekend. I'll be able to mitigate the damage, and find something that's not horrible. But it won't be fun. And that's the project for today. I've got no work, I've got no Sweetie, so I'm hitting the gym then hitting the mall and I'm not coming home until I've got myself a swim suit.

If you don't hear from me soon send out a search party. But warn them to cover there eyes and don't look directly at the thighs.