Once again, a combination of laziness and bad timing thwarted my ambition to do something new. I took a nap when I finished classes (laziness) and the long awaited orages (storms) came, rendering all outdoor activities inadvisable. Instead, I hit the centre-ville and the soldes. I had a longing for a semi-fancy top I had seen at the Galleries Lafayette, but it was sold out. Today, I thought I might try the store for the semi-fancy label to see if they still had the top. They didn’t have it in the color I wanted, but they did have the size in a different color. So I tried it on. Unfortunately, I was wearing a bra for comfort, not for style. So I looked a little frumpy and couldn’t judge if a bra that is flattering would make the top work. So I left it. Then, for kicks, I went back to the Galleries Lafayette. I saw that they had a section of bargain swimwear, so I browsed. In my universe, buying swimwear is, to me, only slightly better than having my eyes gouged out with a grapefruit spoon. But it is supposed to be broiling in Marseilles tomorrow, and we do have a swimming trip. After a morning/afternoon of sightseeing, a dip in the Mediterranean seems both refreshing and obligatory. And 10 Euros seemed like something I would be willing to spend. I found two swimsuits that I didn’t detest in my size – one pink and one aqua. The pink one was cuter, but the pink was difficult to match (for coverup purposes), and I feared that I also might show too much cleavage. The blue one was basic, but I thought it might be less flattering and more frumpy. Still, coverage is key, and the blue had that contest won. I found something inexpensive to wear as a coverup, and went with the blue suit, which I have been regretting (and unfortunately, it is too late to change). It isn’t that the blue suit sucks, it’s that I hate wearing a swimsuit. It isn’t just that I have the pastiest legs possible without having a medical condition. It isn’t just that I am a known klutz and bump into everything, leaving many bruises on my pasty legs. And it isn’t even that I am awash in cellulite. It is the combination of pastiness, bruises and cellulite. But I bought the damn suit because I know I’ll stare longingly at the sea while everyone else goes swimming. But appearing in public in the suit is something that makes me queasy. And I guess that because the pink suit was trendier (without being skimpier, save the top part), I would feel less frumpy. But the pink suit was a cotton blend and I went for the more practical suit. And so I’ve made my choice. The benefit of the blue suit is that it is so nondescript, it will be almost like wearing camouflage.

 

As you can imagine, the dowdy bra and the horror of seeing myself in a swimsuit has made my mood as bleak as the sky right now. Hopefully, I will just let it go, because while it is understandable, it really is too small a thing to ruin a trip to Marseilles. I better be sweating buckets tomorrow, to make the swimming excursion worth it.

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