The response to the last post was pretty awesome and now suddenly I am too bloody terrified to write anything.
I have started three posts so far and all of them felt a bit off so I deleted them. So to get over my fear I am just going out there with this story – of breasts and swimming songs.
I take my daughter to swimming lessons each Saturday. It’s fun. The teacher and I get in and sing, encourage and clap. For the past four months I’ve been wearing my nine-year-old black one-piece that I bought in a moment of optimism years ago when I thought I would swim lengths at the gym.
This would be totally fine except that the elastic is going under the arms, so I live in fear of flashing the unsuspecting kids and their parents. (And, secretly, of running into someone I know.)
This Saturday I bought a new cozzie. It's lovely. It holds in my tummy, lifts my boobs and has a dash of pink that says, “Y'see, I'm not trying to fade into the background.”
Into the pool I leap with my kiddo. But just as we’re all in the middle of singing 'Wheels on the bus', I look down and see that the padding that lifts my boobs has inexplicably flipped up and twisted around, so now, rather than suggest my décolletage is that of young teenager, itlooks like a large, black mitten is reaching up from inside my costume.
Beautiful...
So I stop singing, dip under the water and do my best, while holding my daughter above the waterline, to rearrange my padding. Elize, the teacher, keeps up her end of the singing while looking at me meaningfully with raised eyebrows.
I went from sweet mom to crazy parent fiddling with her breasts in the middle of a lesson in one movement.
*Groan*
I have started three posts so far and all of them felt a bit off so I deleted them. So to get over my fear I am just going out there with this story – of breasts and swimming songs.
I take my daughter to swimming lessons each Saturday. It’s fun. The teacher and I get in and sing, encourage and clap. For the past four months I’ve been wearing my nine-year-old black one-piece that I bought in a moment of optimism years ago when I thought I would swim lengths at the gym.
This would be totally fine except that the elastic is going under the arms, so I live in fear of flashing the unsuspecting kids and their parents. (And, secretly, of running into someone I know.)
This Saturday I bought a new cozzie. It's lovely. It holds in my tummy, lifts my boobs and has a dash of pink that says, “Y'see, I'm not trying to fade into the background.”
Into the pool I leap with my kiddo. But just as we’re all in the middle of singing 'Wheels on the bus', I look down and see that the padding that lifts my boobs has inexplicably flipped up and twisted around, so now, rather than suggest my décolletage is that of young teenager, itlooks like a large, black mitten is reaching up from inside my costume.
Beautiful...
So I stop singing, dip under the water and do my best, while holding my daughter above the waterline, to rearrange my padding. Elize, the teacher, keeps up her end of the singing while looking at me meaningfully with raised eyebrows.
I went from sweet mom to crazy parent fiddling with her breasts in the middle of a lesson in one movement.
*Groan*