The Un-Thong Song

I have a confession to make. I owned a thong bathing suit. I know it was wrong and I am ashamed. The truth is that no one, save actual Brazilian women and possibly JLo, should ever, ever wear a thong bathing suit. I have never had a thong-worthy bottom; not when I owned the thong bathing suit, not before and not now. To be fair I bought it to go on our honeymoon ten years ago with stars in my eyes and a fiance encouraging the purchase by my side. I think I only wore it once by the little hut we stayed in on Kona which was completely private. I am pretty sure that even then I didn’t have the courage to wear it in public.

Which brings me to the conspiracy surrounding my attempts to get fit enough to be happy about wearing a regular old cover-your-ass bathing suit now. We are going to Hawaii for our tenth anniversary and I would like to look like I did ten years ago. Since that ship has sailed, I would at least like to feel reasonably sane in a two piece. That doesn’t seem like much to ask, does it?

So then explain why are there troops of cookie pushers at the grocery store when I go. And if I attempt to exercise some discipline by declining their offers of Samoas and Thin Mints, the mothers of said cookie dealers shoot me evil disparaging looks. Really, I don’t see you buying all little Ashley’s cookies so she and her troop can go to Six Flags. Yeah, don’t look at me that way. You won’t keep this crack in your house either.

And then Starbucks has to turn on me too. They had plenty of snacks that I had already made peace with, but now they introduce candy coated cake on a stick. And like any good drug dealer the first one was free. I need my coffee people, but tiny salted caramel brownies? Little whoopie pies?  That is just unkind.

Lastly, apparently we as a society have developed a need for cupcakes so extreme that they have employed trucks to drive around the city hawking them. Can’t make it to the bakery on your lunch hour, slim? No worries, we will bring the frosted fat pills to you. You will recognize us in our cute pink truck with the line of ladies outside (the guys are all over at the meatball truck).

So far I have dodged most of these bullets, but I am only human. How is a gal supposed to slim down after a long winter of bulking up against the cold when everywhere she looks are sweets that call her name? The good news is there is considerably more fabric involved in any bathing suit that I am likely to wear on our upcoming vacation. And thankfully for anyone who happens to be at the pool where I will be, my sad not-thong-worthy bottom will be completely covered.