Fitting Room Epiphanies

Today, I went bathing suit shopping with Suz.

Today, I realized you can stumble upon a few discoveries when bathing suit shopping for the first time since, ohhh say, a year ago?



1. The dressing room attendants in the bathing suit sections of both Belk's and Dillard's are FRISKY.

Do I need anything else besides the 5000 bathing suits I came into my room with 4 minutes ago? No.

Do I want to come out of the safety and comfort of my dressing room to show you, a stranger, how the suit I have on makes me look like a german sausage? No.

If I do venture out of my room to brave the horrendous 3-panel mirror in the general dressing room lobby area, do I want your superficial opinion of how the suit looks so that I will buy it under your false pretenses and you will get commission of the sale? NO.

I think the sales representative who was "helping" me at Dillard's would have hopped right into the dressing room with me and my nude self if I had let her. When did these practices become normal or acceptable?

I'm not even an uber conservative gal, but my gosh, Ashley-in-the-Dillard's-bathing-suit-department, PUMP. THE. BRAKES. I don't need your over-anxious little fingers getting anywhere near my twins to know whether a bathing suit fits or not.



2. The fluorescent lights in fitting rooms were sent to the department stores of the world straight from the Devil himself.

I think department stores should have caught on by now. If you want me to feel more inclined to buy whatever I am trying on, do not outfit your fitting rooms with lights that make me look like a corpse and highlight every little jelly roll I may or may not have.

It's a wonder I didn't get in my car and drive straight off a cliff after subjecting myself to half a dozen dressing rooms and their fluorescent lights from the gates of Hell.



3. I. am. FAT.

I don't mention this so that I get an influx of comments or messages saying "no you're not!" In fact, I would rather get messages of confirmation rather than opposition to this statement. Maybe that would motivate me to get off my (fat)ass and go run a mile or five.

Maybe it was the fluorescent lights, but....Holy Moly---I'm staging my own intervention. I have a beach vacation at the end of July. I have to be in my brother's wedding in early September. I am turning 23 in two days. Every day that goes by, my metabolism and ability to drop Lbs only gets worse.

So, I set a goal. I need to shed at least 10-15 pounds by the time my brother gets married. Which is in September. Five months. Plenty of time! Like, something is wrong with me if I can't manage to do this. And I'm posting it on here because I feel like the more people that know about it, the more people I will have to face if I fail miserably. Hooray for motivation!

Upon leaving the mall, Suz and I went to Play it Again Sports. I bought ankle weights, 10-pound dumbbells, and a jump rope. And so it begins, and we shall see how it goes.

All I have to say is, residents of Columbia, if you see a wide load with ankle weights strapped to her feet, hyperventilating and about to keel over dead while attempting to "jog" in the Shandon area, please don't make fun of me. Or I'll send my new BFF Ashley from Dillard's to politely badger you to death.