{Do you have the classic Village People anthem in your head yet?  If not, click here. }

Flash forward to present day (technically earlier this week).  Four long years after Swimsuit Shopping {Part One: The Grey Hair}.    Four years older (eek!), fitter (yeah baby!), grayer (Clariol is my friend), and paler (boo..hiss..hiss…).

I’ve actually braved bikinis for a few summers figuring that if the 80-year-olds on my local beach can wear one with pride, so can I dammit.  But this year I realized it is finally time to save my skin and give up sunbathing.  No tan + birthmark + leftover baby belly skin = no bikini.  It was time to search for some new tankinis or one-piece suits.

I felt like a knight going off on a holy quest as I began my journey, not knowing how far I would roam, if I would face foes or famine (I did pack a candy bar just in case), or if I would ever find what my heart truly desired: the perfect swimsuit.  I dressed nicely, wore a full face of make-up, made sure I shaved, and even wore pretty underwear.  I was prepared in my suit of armor.

The first day of my quest I hit three Ross Stores, two Targets, two Marshall’s, and a TJ Maxx.  Because my Kiddo was now in school.  Because I friggin could.  No goldfish, no lollipops, NO whining. To hell with the gas bill. I was going shopping. 

At the end of day one I had bought two suits. After trying them on at home in real time and light, they just weren’t quite right.  Being tankinis, the middles cut into my softest section (thank you Kiddo).  Or the top was perfect (hello cleavage) but the bottom didn’t work (good-bye flab).  And I discovered that a one-piece was truly more flattering (who knew?).

But trying to find a one piece that is more Bettie Page than Great Aunt Betty is kind of like searching for a UFO or the Holy Grail: they may be out there but I’ll believe it when I see it.

I believe, I believe, I believe….

An Old Navy happened to be right next door to one of my stops so I popped in just to see what was new.  They had four, yes FOUR one-piece suits that were young, hip, and hopeful.  And every freaking one of them fit. And they were each LESS THAN $20.   I did a wonky happy dance around the co-ed dressing room.   The fitting room guy got quite a show, but I really didn’t care.  A miracle had occurred–not in a church, not at the Vatican–but at Old Navy.

Or more likely, the Rapture must have struck that day, because I was in swimsuit heaven.

But I only NEEDED one more suit.  After a half hour of prancing and posing I decided upon this little number.

Which went with all the other stuff I already had.

 I could wear it to the beach and still feel like a MILF (don’t judge, we all want to be MILFs).  I could pair it with my board shorts and hit the waves without the other surfers staring at me as if I was their Grandma.   It made me feel hot.  SOLD.

Days later though, I still felt a pangs of regret that I didn’t buy the second runner-up as well, a retro sapphire blue suit which would be more appropriate for Kiddo’s soccer team pool parties. I didn’t necessarily want to flash cleavage at all the little boys or their parents. Hubby said the soccer Dads would love me if I did. {massive sigh} Maybe Dear, but the wives would HATE me.  DO you understand NOTHING  about women after all these years?

I had to go back for it.  Smack a stupid sticker on my forehead.  If you actually are graced by God or make a deal with the devil and find a swimsuit that fits and is flattering and cheap, for the love of cripes BUY IT.   So of course when I went back for it — gone.

I went to two other Old Navy’s hunting that damn suit down.  I was jonsing like a crack addict in need of a hit.  I NEEDED that other suit to survive the summer.  It would make me feel like a cool, classy,classic movie star when I’m tricked into going to the MIL’s yacht club pool.  The lecherous old men would not get a cheap skin show but would reminisce about 1950s pin-ups instead. 

After I searched the racks at the second store I gave up.  It just wasn’t meant to be.  I would have to be happy being zebra girl for the summer and deal with my MIL’s scathing glare for being so inappropriate.  Just in case, I went back for one last peek before I headed out the door.  As if by magic or divine provenance IT APPEARED.  Only one– and in MY size.  I grabbed it and ran to the registers.

I came home a giddy girl from swimsuit shopping.  There is a first time for everything.

 I’m packing some Coronas and Capri-Suns and hitting the beach this weekend, Baby…

Cheers!

 Note:  This post was not endorsed, paid for, or involved any bribery by Old Navy whatsoever.  However–I think Old Navy owes me a few bucks for product endorsements…seriously..my contact info is at the top of the blog.  If no money is involved I really wanted one of those bead-trimmed straw hats and some aviator sunglasses to go with the swimsuits, hint, hint…