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Jami For the Record, Snarky Mischief

Are You There God? It’s Swimsuit Season…

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Are You There God? It’s Swimsuit Season…

It’s me, Lord.

Yes, me… on the dressing room floor.  Oh, Sweet Jesus, you’ve seen me here before – in this shame and brokenness.

I know, starving, oppressed, and exploited humans… My summer wardrobe is low on your list of priorities. I am the worst.

Yes, I was here last year, and the year before.

Ok, every year since 1996.

Swim suit shopping, an event more dreaded than pap smears and root canals.

It’s not in the Bible.  Thou shall not swim.  And, thou shall not frolic half clothed in chlorinated waters.  Thou shall use sunscreen.  Why?  Why aren’t you more specific?  Just this one time, why can’t you forbid this activity?  I can’t believe that is what I look like from behind?

Dressing room mirrors are not from Jesus.  I am of the religious belief you are not supposed to see what you look like from behind.  That’s the devil’s work.

If swimsuit shopping were done in a room with no mirrors would I still contemplate my thighs this absorbedly?  Is there any other body topic I scrutinize with this passion?  And what is that fresh lump of fleshy hell above my knees?

Dressing room mirrors aren't from Jesus I'm of the religious belief you're not supposed to see what you look like from behind. #devilswork Click To Tweet

Am I getting grosser?

Is there a scale for grossness?  Is this a loss of elasticity or a flesh gain?  I totally switched to Skinny Mochas in March, and how in hells bells is it June? How did that sacrifice not reap more benefits?  If my husband cuts back from two to one beer the caloric deficit affords him a 40-pound weight loss.  If I gave up food altogether and I only survived on shaved ice, there would still be blurbs of corpulent butt meat poking out of this industrial strength “sliming” lycra spandex vice, flippantly referred to as “swimsuit.”

And the slimming top pushes more stuff down and then the slimming bottoms push stuff up and I look like I have Russet potatoes randomly stuffed under different sections of this enormous purple tankini. Wait that’s my boob, how did it get back there?

Oh, Jesus… I am going to cry again.

Please don’t let anyone come in here and hear me crying again, or see me in this monstorous swimsuit.

Yes, that mall security guy was sweet, bless him.  I need to get him a Starbucks card, he went above and beyond, escorting me to my car… calling Justin to make sure I got home safe.  But I just knew this year would be different.  Not just the Skinny Mochas, I did that thing with the sliced tomatoes and 4 almonds.  OH! and I drank like a gallon of green tea and apple cider vinegar like every day?  And I know I am 45, but how can I possibly look better buck naked than I do the second I strap on a swimsuit?


Am I swelling?

Is this a spandex allergy?

Does my flesh expand when it touches lycra?  And if I am chaffing in this 4×4 dressing room what kind of hellish rash will I manifest by the end of August?  The injustice?  Remember?  I switched to lettuce cups instead of taco shells?  Where are those low-calorie credits, that martyr bit reckoned zilch?

Literally, my calves are the size of ordinary people’s thighs? My Viking breeding stock doesn’t bow to this season’s fun fashions.  No, it lends more toward the pillaging of the Country Club Cabana’s snack bar and ripping the tanned and toned arms off young maidens in bikinis with tramp stamps lounging around the kiddy pool. They smartly sound off at their toddlers with hyper-metaphorical names, “Spurgeon, Runs-with-Fire, and Talula-Grace!  Come eat your tofu-dawg!”               

And who is the mastermind designer that put these ENORMOUS flowers on this swimsuit?  I look like I am swaddled in the wallpaper from the nursing home where my great-great Aunt Bambi died in 1984.  One of the only decent fitting swimsuits had a massive bird of paradise decorated across the left DD cup.  It looked like it could come alive and eat my face.

I know, you have a universe of troubles but… Jesus, help me find a swimsuit that covers these lumps, bumps, and folds.

Guide me in ways of the cosmos to something I can wear to a Labor Day picnic without having to be sedated?

Our Father, who art in Heaven… how are these my thighs?

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done… on the beach or swim club as it is in Heaven.

Give us this day our daily carrot sticks.

And forgive me those mashed potatoes and the other mashed potatoes before the last batch.

Lead me not into the junior section and deliver me from the evil of this dressing room.

For thighs are king size, the plumpest, and the grodiest ever.  Amen

May your floors be sticky and your swimsuit just perfect! Love, Jami

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17 Comments

  1. Rene says:

    Omgosh I have Fasted from Social Media for some time. It even included forgoing the reading of email . That today would be the day I opened this hilarious, personal, account of what could very well be every glimpse at my own reflection was pure genius . I cried, laughed , empathized , laughed more, and thought, “FATHER GOD I totally love this beautiful, talented daughter of yours”. You really get us & I LOVE THIS JAMI❤️

    1. jami_amerine says:

      ❤️

  2. Beth says:

    I want yo be your BFF. Thank you for this. ❤️

    1. jami_amerine says:

      Ok!

  3. Glenna McKelvie says:

    I decided a long time ago that the mirrors in dressing rooms were bought at an estate sale from a shut down “Fun House” (and not fun!) — is grosser a word? Hahaha!

  4. Vicki says:

    Jami – thank you! You are so talented! You have put a smile on my face and a giggle in my soul . I always open your blog and read it first. It is full of truths and wisdom for what we face everyday .

    1. jami_amerine says:

      Thank you Vicki!

  5. Kim says:

    Literally Laughing Out Loud at my desk at work. So much truth. I haven’t bought a new swimsuit in about 3 years Because This.

    1. jami_amerine says:

      I’m so glad you got a giggle. ❤️

  6. Susan says:

    I’d rather walk on hot coals than step into another dressing room armed with a bathing suit that I must squeeze myself into only to stand back and squelch the scream of horror trying to escape from my mouth as I see my reflection in those mirrors! I learned long ago not to look in the mirrors behind me showing the back view!! Thank you for this side-splitting laugh! I will forever remember this as I have to face the next dressing room. The image of the lumpy russet potatoes is my favorite 🙂

    1. jami_amerine says:
  7. […] might also like Are you there God its Swimsuit Season and my […]

  8. You know you have a good blog when I step away from my monster cookie binging to finish reading the post so I don’t die choking on a cookie every time I lauded… rich was every 5 seconds! I love this!!!

    1. jami_amerine says:

      ❤️

    2. Ugh… breastfeeding while binging and typing leads to typos….sorry

  9. Victoria Shoemaker says:

    Oh my gosh, I just had my first PT appointment and of course they wanted me to go to water therapy!!!! What!!! As I was trying on every. Swim suit I owned, size 4 through 12,. Nothing hides my legs or flabby arms. Put on T-Shirt and work out pants, looked like Halloween. Maybe Goodwill has a 20’s suit that goes down to knees and ruffled arms? No time, 9:30 am, had a glass of wine and put on suit that the legs were stretched out and sagged all over. Maybe I will look thinner!
    Ugh!!!

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