You may remember my pre-trip swimsuit parade, which began in November. After ordering way too many swimsuits, I found one that I didn't hate. I even liked it a little. And it was a perfect compromise between swimdress and bikini...a skirtini or something. A bikini top with a skirted bottom (but not in a 4-year-old kind of way).
As a back-up, I also decided on a black retro one-piece suit that covered everything up. The rest all got sent back.
So it's day two of our dream vacation. We are sitting on Waikiki Beach. The sun is shining and the boys have joined forces with a Canadian family to build a monster sand castle (I suspect it was because that family had buckets and shovels). Feeling that perhaps I shouldn't dump my kids off on a complete stranger and his kids, I join in on the castle-building and attempt to make small-talk (one of my least favorite activities). Once my hands are entirely caked in sand, I decide it is time to rinse them off.
So up I go, take two steps, bend down to rinse my hands in the tide and "Snap!" My carefully chosen bikini top is suddenly dangling from the string around my neck.
Thankfully I was facing the water, not the beach, so aside from the Canadian dad, who was mere feet from me and likely got a nice side shot (though he graciously pretended not to notice a thing), I mostly only flashed a few children floating in the water before grabbing my straps and sprinting back to my husband, who was blissfully unaware of the situation, so engrossed was he in his book.
"My swimsuit came unhooked!" I whispered, trying not to draw attention, expecting him to simply re-latch it. However, upon examination, it was discovered that the plastic clasp that was supposed to keep me entirely G-rated had snapped in half. Now, to be fair, I had commented probably only an hour earlier that one day of resort-living (think buffets and tropical drinks) was already making me feel fat, but this was uncalled for.
And this is where I'd like to thank my cute little cover-up for saving me from having to walk the half-mile back to our hotel room holding my top closed. (The same cover-up that I accidentally left in the bathroom of our hotel at check-out. Dammit.)
More than being embarrassed, I was pretty pissed off at the shoddy craftsmanship. So what is the moral of this story? Function should trump form? Don't order swimsuits off the internet? Always have a back-up? We should all wear potato sacks to the beach?
Well, the one thing I know for sure is that I will never buy anything from Shape FX again.
The bikini incident would have been enough on its own, but wouldn't you know that after three days of wearing my back-up suit (also from Shape FX), the plastic piece that lets you adjust the straps broke off? (And being short and flat-chested, I needed to adjust my straps.) Perhaps the company was founded as an elaborate scheme to leave women topless? I can't be sure, but they won't be getting any more of my business.
And so, after all of that, I am once again left suitless. (Shape FX has agreed to refund my money for the bikini. The other suit got left in Hawaii alongside my cover-up.) Good thing I have no plans to go anywhere near a pool for at least another few months. This time I will be shopping in real stores...and performing various beach poses in each suit to test its durability. Lesson learned.
