Bodies are weird.
Mine has essentially been the same for the last 9 years, a little fluctuation in weight, but pretty much the same. I have gotten used to it.
A few weeks ago, we were grocery shopping, following our Sunday routine: work until dark, get a Pineapple Pleasure smoothie from Smoothie King, and peruse the aisles of Kroger. Things were fine, then we hit the refrigerated section. Between price comparing orange juice and checking the sugar content of various yogurts, I began to feel...pain. Like serious pain. Above my ribs and below my shoulders, in two, uh, hidden places... I stood there, completely thrown off, teary eyed, and trying to find a way to convey to my husband what was happening, without using real words due to the large group of other yogurt eaters nearby.
Not long after, I realized I would need to do some shopping. As I said, my body has pretty much been the same since my sophomore year of high school, most of my undergarments had long ago come from the teen section, where things are made of cotton and only go up to a certain size(and they are way cheaper). With much shopping around, I finally found that I could both afford things and wear things that come from Target, so I thought I was set.
Last week was Spring Break, which teachers look foreword to much more than students. My husband and I went to Florida where we met up with his parents. We did all things one does in a beach town: gets burnt in places where the spray-on sunscreen didn't land, ate chips with sand in them, and read three novels, instead of getting in the water. We really did have a good time. In fact, we even went for a delicious steak dinner, where a man played seductive covers of Rick Astley songs on a saxophone! But just before dinner, my husband and I decided to go to the pool at the hotel. As I was removing the dress I had thrown on over my suit, I got to the point where my arms were halfway above my head and the dress was covering my face. Then I felt something. A snap. Then a flinging. Then a breeze. Then panic. The snap on the back of my swim suit broke and the extra wind from the storms in Louisiana carried my straps away from my body.
It took me a minute. One-my face was covered. And two-there (as of late) was more to wrangle and attempt to contain again. I don't know how many men, women, and children were privy to my dramatic display of flailing and topless-ness, but I would venture around 30.
I am a modest person. God is slowly breaking it down, so that I don't die if I am the 1 in 4 women who twosees on the delivery table.
Yipee.
