For the first time since 2001, we are actually preparing for a family vacation. I can’t let myself get excited in case I end up staying home with the critters, but I won’t deny that I’m really hopeful. As part of my acceptance, I bought a swimsuit. Yes, I know that most women buy a swimsuit every spring. I haven’t bought a swimsuit in six years. That is two children ago. I would hate to make the 9 hour drive to the beach and sit there in my jeans and t-shirt. I spent two days searching for a swimsuit. I read that there is a store in Knoxville which gives shoppers champagne to drink while they try on $200 jeans. Women should be served alcohol when they brave the dressing room with swimsuits in their hands. I know I’m not alone, because I could hear the other women in the dressing rooms complaining and groaning. Swimsuits don’t cover thighs. Finding a suit that doesn’t require a Brazilian is not a topic I will even attempt to discuss. I don’t understand why swimsuits are made for women with B size busts. I had a C cup when I was 13. They may be lower now, but they are certainly not smaller. Uniboobs are not attractive on anyone. I complained about one suit giving me a “back butt” and Doug acted like I made that phrase up out of thin air. In fact, Doug and I had a few go rounds over the entire swimsuit issue this weekend. Apparently, my belief that 14-year-olds shouldn’t wear the same style suit as 18-year-olds and my displeasure with wearing a swimsuit are based on my low self-esteem. I happen to think that recognizing that you have reached a point in your life when you look better with clothes than without clothes is quite normal. I am content with the size I wear. It isn’t a double digit yet, even if my pants do have to be a short people size. Swimsuits are just not flattering on most adult women. Lucky for everyone, I have no camera to prove to you that I am right. I am. Because . . . the woman is always right. She just doesn’t look right in a swimsuit.