I’m almost embarrassed to admit it but the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have gone on so long, I’m almost completely numb to the continual horror stories on the evening news. Which is probably why I didn’t pay attention to any of the details in the most recent tragedy at a clinic in Camp Liberty in Baghdad when five soldiers were murdered… Honestly, I simply assumed that it was another terrorist’s bombing. But this morning, I learned that it was actually an American soldier that killed his fellow soldiers. SMH.
In yet addition of ‘White Women Are SO NOT Handling the Recession Well’- Whatchu know about old school Dallas star, Victoria Principal a.k.a Bobby’s wife Pam Ewing pulling a damn gun on her maid because wait on it… Maribel was taking too long to walk the dog!!
Now that the weather is attempting to warm up and we’re in the final stretch of whatever damage control folks will actually accomplish before open-toe season begins, it’s time to deal with the least appealing aspect of the change of season: the new bikini dilemma.
Uuuggh, can I tell you? I ABHORE (yes, breaking out the big GRE words folks) shopping for new bathing suits. Like, seriously? I can by new tanks tops, sundresses and sandals all day every day, but say the word two-piece and I literally wanna throw-up in my mouth. And it doesn’t matter how much I physically or mentally prepare, trying to find a swimsuit that can simultaneously hide all the lumps and bumps yet still qualify as sexy is like water torture.
Honestly, I think the root of problem is that every year, my overall body shape changes- sometimes for the better, most times not. Therefore, the hella cute string bikini style that might’ve been the answer last season, looks nothing but cra-razy this time around. And please, don’t even get me started on those damn boy short bottoms that cut dead in the middle of the saddle bag? No maam, nobody needs that AT ALL.
And call me cheap but the thought of spending damn near a $150 of bullshit sized piece of material that’s only going to hightlight the areas of my body that I’m most insecure about is beyond painful.
So if you see me walking out of Bloomies looking dazed and confused ike I someone just kicked me in the neck, you know what the deal is. There’s nothing to say, just pray.
My God, do you remember that unfortunate period of time when flashing the strings of a thong over your super, super low rise jeans was considered a bold fashion statement? You know, right around the time folks actually believed that Sisqo from Dru Hill was anything but 1-800-ON-FIRE? Uh-huh, we sure have lived through some Dark Ages my friends…