Saturday, July 6, 2013

Righteous anger and swimsuit shopping

A really stupid thing happened on Thursday.

I was last-minute shopping for a cheap, new swimsuit at Target with my boyfriend and trying to be as quick as possible so we could meet up with his family for Fourth of July festivities at a lake where they were camping.

I needed a swimsuit that was family friendly (after the tops to the two bikinis I already own became a bit too small) but I didn't want to spend very much.

We walk into the store, and one of the first things that annoyed me? How many people were there shopping. Yeah, I know. How annoying, other people are doing the same thing I'm doing. The nerve. 

But after a few failed attempts at getting a bikini top to fit, I was in one of those moods where every other human interaction was bothering me. (Yes, that is code for I was being a raging jackass).

In an effort to save money, I figured I could look for a top that matched one of the bikini bottoms I already own and of course, nothing fit properly. It was either too gape-y or too tight or too fucking stupid looking.

So I find a one-piece that I actually think is pretty cute. Pretty fuchsia color, nice v-neck with a ruffle detail, flattering.

I go to try it on and when I walk into the 12-room dressing area, every door is closed. Every last door.

Now I've been in this dressing room before plenty of times and there are never more than three or so rooms in use at a time, so I think to myself, "no way these are all full," and I plow ahead, testing the door of the room I think is least likely to be occupied.

Because I know these doors lock, I go ahead and turn the handle. And it opens. To immediately slam into the girl inside it.

Okay. Awkward laugh and apology. I shut the door and try another.

Same thing happens.

And now I'm the just asshole who barges in on people.

The salesgirl finds a closed room that just happens to be empty and I go inside fuming.

I had just had the thought earlier in the day that I hate when people do private things behind doors that lock, and yet, don't turn the lock. Especially when the default for whatever room they are in is that the door stays closed. (Because apparently knocking is for plebeians.)

So there I am alone in the dressing room pissed that there are so many people in a Target on a holiday when it is the last place I want to be, pissed that no top is fitting me correctly and pissed that no one knows how to use a lock.

But I try on the fuchsia swimsuit I had grabbed in small and medium. The small was too tight in the chest area and the torso was too short. But the medium fit pretty damn well, and I settle on it.

Of course I'm not appeased that I have a winner. I just want to get out of the dressing room so I can talk shit on all the other people in it to my boyfriend waiting outside.

I disgustedly discard the rejected swimsuits, including the fuchsia one that I thought didn't fit, in the cart outside the dressing area before I go and tell him the whole story.

Because I'm nothing if not spiteful, I told this dumbass story the entire way from the back of the store to the registers at the front where I buy the swimsuit and then immediately rip the tags off my new purchase once I'm in the car.

And then I don't think about it again until several hours later when I'm standing in the camper owned by my boyfriend's parents about to get dressed for swimming. I pull that fuchsia swimsuit up my legs and can immediately tell by the snugness that is not the medium I thought I bought.

It's the fucking small I thought I discarded.

And it's tight and it's not very modest and it completely defeats the purpose of trying to get a less showy bathing suit. And it's all I have.

And I hadn't even known I had discarded the medium in my rage. I was too busy being annoyed.

So I guess the moral of the story is...

Don't be a miserable bitch?

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