If there is one thing that is even less fun than seeing if you can make your eyeball spin in its socket using a dentists drill, it's buying a swimsuit. I could list thousands of things I'd rather do than go swimsuit shopping, and watching every single episode of Dora the Latina Whore is on that list.
Do you get the sense that I hate swimsuit shopping? Because I more than hate it. "Loathing" comes to mind, but that's not really a strong enough word.
Even in high school swimsuits were High Drama. It didn't matter that I was a puny size 4, because the cousins are most definitely NOT a size 4. I eventually figured out that I could buy a different size bottom and top and there was a glimmer of hope that I wouldn't end up looking like I had shoved Chris Farley's moobs into a bikini.
And then came Alexis. You should all thank me at this point because you do NOT want to see what happens to a size 4 waist when it is occupied by a nearly 10 pound baby. There's a map of China drawn out in stretch marks is what I'm saying. Do you need to see a map of China? I didn't think so.
I had to figure out how to find a one piece swimsuit that would contain the 34DD's without riding so far up my butt that floss would have been an improvement. It's no small feat, you guys. At this moment, the eight people reading this who have been cursed with DD's are nodding and saying "Sing it, sister!" and the rest of you are rolling your eyes. Think of it this way--Pamela Anderson does not walk into Target and buy a $10 swimsuit because even she has limits as to how much boob is allowed to hang out. Swimsuit manufacturers most definitely do not consider cantaloupes in their design.
After much drama that included trying every freakin' source of swimsuits on this planet (I do not exaggerate this point, for the record), I *finally* found a site where I could get a one piece that mostly fit. It required buying a "tall" in a ridiculous size, but it worked! And it was fantastic! And it didn't cost $400! Yay for Newport News!
The two years that I managed to wear the suit I first bought from Newport News were glorious. GLORIOUS, I TELL YOU. But then that mostly worked thing turned into a no longer working thing and the suit I had from there gave up on life. It happened in a most dramatic way that involved the zipper that ran up the front of the suit deciding it was time for a divorce as I stood in the middle of a kid-friendly water park. The place wasn't very kid-friendly during the 30 seconds it took me to find a t-shirt and get things covered up. TOTAL CHEST ZIPPER EXPLOSION KABLOOEY!
RIP swimsuit that I didn't hate.
I had to buy a new swimsuit this year, obviously. After much stalking of Newport News' website, I finally swooped in and made a purchase during a fairly decent sale. $32 for a suit that mostly fit and wasn't totally hideous. That is an absolute and total win.
Or at least it was a win until the suit showed up. I went to try it on and discovered something .... interesting. It was a one piece, but it was actually made of two pieces that had been sewn together. As I glanced down at the front of the bottom half, I thought to myself, "Wow! That's some great coverage!" but then I realized that the backside coverage? NOT SO GREAT.
The bottom was sewn on backwards. In other words, the part that is supposed to cover your butt was in the front.
I don't know why I thought that might be a problem, but I did. (Someone REALLY needs to invent a sarcasm font.) I still wanted the suit, of course, but I did need one that didn't have a major manufacturers defect. I dialed up the email to ask for an exchange and was promptly sent a form email (addressed to "Ms. Baby" for the record, even though I had signed my email with my actual name. You may be shocked to learn my birth certificate doesn't say "Burgh Baby" but it really doesn't) saying I was out of luck. Newport News doesn't do exchanges.
OK.
So then I asked the very obvious question. Could I return the one and buy another at the same price as I had originally paid? A smart person would realize that is the very definition of "merchandise exchange" but Ms. Baby had already figured out she wasn't dealing with "smart."
"Sure!" the person who only knew how to copy and paste form emails replied. But! But! I had to CALL to order the replacement because the person responding to my email hadn't been granted the power to fix the company's error.
I called. I was told the balance due was something like $30. "But! But!" I said. "There should be a note on my account that I can have the price adjusted to the price I paid originally!"
There was such a note. Hooray! Or, rather, OMG because then I was told I would have to pay shipping for the replacement. I hadn't paid shipping the first time because I am the queen of free shipping codes. Apparently it's asking a lot to expect a company to replace that which they already screwed up without charging the customer more money.
And THAT is why I hate swimsuit shopping. When I do find something that works, it ends up being from a company so full of incompetent and horrendous customer service that I find myself actually considering ripping out the seam and fixing a swimsuit that was assembled wrong. I won't actually do it, but the thought crossed my mind.
Guess I'll just skinny dip this summer. Consider yourself warned.
