*No, not me, I still live in a fantasy world were my post-two kid body can wear a bikini. But the following post is about my one of my blogger besties, Jenn, and the time she was forced to wear a bikini. Trust me, it is worth the read.
Hello there Daffodils’ readers, you stylish people, you. I’m Jenn from Life With The Lieutenant. While I don’t seem to blog on the regular too much these days, when I do write, it tends to be about my attempts to escape my yoga pants (success is hard to come by in that arena) and taking care of two kids under two while supporting my sweet husband Steve in his Army career. Since Kate and her gorgeous family are on vacation at the beach, I thought it might be appropriate to write a beach-y post here for you, but unfortunately, it will not be filled with pictures of me looking put together in a simple sundress or stylish swimsuit. (I typically call them “bathing suits” because after you go swimming, you don’t need a bath, amiright? It now also seems appropriate to mention that I’m from Alabama. Ahem.)
Enough terminology talk though; let’s get to the story. Today I will tell you about that one time I went on my honeymoon. It was my very first cruise and I stupidly did no research whatsoever (my MIL booked it as a gift to us). I was VERY proud of myself for fitting everything I needed into my one checked bag. Only inefficient chumps bring multiple bags and carry-ons! Psh!
We flew out of Atlanta to Puerto Rico. My one, single, solitary, lonely, stupid checked bag took a vacation of its own to Philadelphia (which, ironically, is where my husband is from). And since I was so “efficient” with packing, I did not have a carry-on. I had my purse, which contained my passport, my ID, an old Tic Tac, and a pen that ran out of ink sometime around the 8th grade. (Cue many curse words and some dramatic tears.)
We were told by the baggage people (they are in a circle of hell all their own) that there was no way my bag would make it down before the ship set sail. They would have to fly it to one of the ports a few days later. We alerted the cruise people that I had a missing bag and it would be showing up at some unknown time. In the meantime, I was fortunate enough to wear all of Steve’s clothes and have the worst case of Frizzy Hair that you ever did see. I basically looked like a sloppy teenage boy. Photographic evidence for you:
For the record, Steve does not own pink short shorts. Bought those on the ship to avoid wearing his basketball shorts any longer.
I was makeup-less, hair product-less (you curly-haired people out there can feel my pain, I know it), and swimsuit-less for the first few days of the cruise. Now I don’t wear much makeup anyways, but not having a swimsuit on a CARIBBEAN CRUISE was just a little more than I could handle. As we were walking around the ship, I noticed a shop that was selling some bikinis. I thought, Hey, if they’ve got bikinis, they’ve got to have a tankini lying around somewhere, or possibly a one-piece! (I do not have the body for a bikini, btw.) After checking with multiple store employees, the verdict was: That was the only store on the ship that sold swimsuits, and those two bikinis were the only options. SERIOUSLY??? Not to mention it was something like $80 for these two tiny pieces of fabric. I could feel my Target tankini laughing maniacally at my situation all the way from Pennsylvania.
But we bought the bikini and Steve was overjoyed. I was all, “Wah wah waaaah I have the whitest, not-tightest stomach in the history of the earth and I wouldn’t be surprised if nearby cruise-people started jumping ship just to avoid looking at this hot mess.” But I wore it anyway because there isn’t much to do on a cruise if you’re not swimming or lying out. Naturally, I had a drink to take the edge off. (Side note: Present-day Jenn With Two Kids And The Body To Show For It would like to go back in time and slap Past Jenn. Hard. It’s unfortunate that she didn’t have a glimpse of her 2012 abdominal situation for comparison.)
Luckily no one jumped ship because of my swimsuit. They said that man was crazy before he ever saw me in that.
My bag finally arrived, approximately one month later, at an island whose name I can’t pronounce. The cruise-people alerted me that my bag had made it on board, but that there was a suspicious object inside. I would need to come down there and let them search it. I opened the bag for the lady so she could poke around. She proceeds to pull out all of my “honeymoon attire” in front of God and the world (and quite a few overly-excited male crew members), but since I had already been sporting the bikini for a few days, this did not phase me at all. I hardly even flinched. But the suspicious item? Was my blowdryer. (Y’all were hoping it was going to be something slightly more… exciting? Weren’t you? Don’t lie, I’m sure the male crew members were just as disappointed, judging by their rapid dispersing after.) She asked me if it was some sort of gun. (Really?) I explained that even if it were, I would need to plug it into a full-sized, American outlet in order for me to shoot anyone. She did not find that funny. After thoroughly explaining what a diffuser was, I was allowed to zip my bag up and take it to our room.
And my tankini, cover-up and I lived happily ever after. The End.
O Jenn, you make me laugh everytime. Be sure to check out Life with the Lieutenant for more funny stories!