Bathing Beauty

Ah, summertime. No school, no homework, no schedule. Lazy days spent at the park or hanging by the pool.

Oh, shit. BY THE POOL. The pool opens this weekend. Last year I avoided the pool like the plague - with a 6 month old Henry and a 3 1/2 year old Julia to watch constantly, it was anything but a relaxing experience. Katie, an excellent swimmer, was always off with a friend. Henry was too small to sit in any flotation device, and Julia was too...Julia. So she 'swam' back and forth on the steps and drank approximately 8 million gallons of fetid fecal pool water over the course of the summer. Did I mention there is no shade at our pool? Yeah, so it was pretty much suckballs all summer long.

But this summer, we've joined another pool - one with a baby pool and a lazy river and a waterslide...something for everyone. Katie will be able to go off and have fun with the big kids while the little ones and I splash around. There is plenty of shade and a snack shack and the kids can't wait to spend the summer there.

Which means I have to get a bathing suit. I have no fewer than 6 in a drawer, all in varying sizes, none of which fit properly. If it fits in the boobs, it sags in the ass. If it fits in the rear, it doesn't properly contain the meat apron. All this leads to one, terrifying, conclusion:

I have to go bathing suit shopping. It's a task that ranks just ahead of getting a pap smear, and only slightly behind giving yourself a pap smear. It presents the same horrifying problems as shopping for underwear, except it's like wearing your underwear on the outside. In front of a bunch of people. And getting wet.

I am fighting that last 10 pounds of baby weight (and we won't discuss the 10 that need to come off after that), so part of me wants to hold off until that happens. But the pool opens this weekend, and chances are I won't lose 10 pounds by Saturday, unless I hack of my arm or something. And I don't have a problem with bathing suits fitting my arms. The best option I have is actually a maternity suit, but do I really want to put myself in that situation (again)? Part of me wants to be all RAH RAH RAH I LOVE MY MEAT APRON body acceptance person, but that's not going to happen either.

I have 4 days to figure it out. Any links to magic meat apron erasing bathing suits are appreciated.