My friend totally cracked my ass up when she called me in a panic three hours before the swim party was going to start, desperate for a men’s and girl’s swimsuit. We’re thick with swimsuits at my house. If she had asked, I could also have produced several adult Halloween costume choices and plenty of extra birthday cards. Or flashlights with working batteries. My friend, let’s call her Stephanie, drove over immediately to commandeer the suits then mentioned she was in a mad rush to get paper plates and plastic forks. “I totally have those.” “I still have to go by the store, though, for napkins.” “I have those too. They match the plates.” “Then all I need are birthday candles and juice boxes.” “Here are some birthday candles. I only have three packages of those. Never know when you might need an emergency box of birthday candles. Sorry, though. No juice.” I love/hate that I almost always have all the contraband for an inpromptu birthday party. Juice is stupid anyway. After the swim party, my kids and I went to another set of 8 year old’s dual birthday party where there were about thirty screaming boys. It was a full day but I was able to pick up a couple of Christmas presents that day, which I had to go home and immediately inventory on my typed Christmas gift list. Does it scare you more to (a) think of me naked; (b) that I don’t keep juice on hand unless it’s adult-oriented; or (c) that I have a typed Christmas gift list? I can’t wait for your answer because I have to make the kids’ lunches for the week and label frozen tupperware meals.
Forty-somethings in Swimwear
There are some things that should be easier. Like Forty-somethings in swimwear. That shouldn’t be so hard. Just so you know how far I will go in the name of friendship, yesterday I donned a tarty swimsuit corset strangulation device two sizes too small for me to help an eight year old’s dream of having an unlame birthday swim party, complete only by my awesome presence. I was more horrified about my thighs than my angry kansor armpit scar. Go ahead and say it: I bet you were HOT. Not so much, really. I almost think it’d be better to imagine me naked than in a swimsuit. Just sayin’. Sausage has to look better before it’s put into casing.