Whaling Adventures...

Miss me? Hmmm, thought not.

I have been on holiday. I went to Granada for four days and I can tell you, I am very brown for a four day excursion – particularly as one day was spent mostly in a car driving to the Sierra Nevada (amazing – will get back to that later).

So far, I will admit, I have actually only had one solid comment about how brown I am – but I put it down to people being jealous of my healthy glow – rather than the possibility that I am not as brown as I like to think I am.

I almost did not come back brown though – due in large part to my loose living (i.e. continually gorging myself on sugary items and packets of crisps). So I am under no illusions that I look good in anything so skimpy as a swim suit – heaven forbid the general public’s eyes should be blighted by the vision of me in a bikini for heaven’s sake. However… due to the self-awareness (it doesn’t take much) that this bathing suit thing is an issue (as are shop changing rooms themselves – I mean, imagine – trotting into a communal changing room with bathing equipment in hand, actually – no – I’m going to maintain my dignity – I shan’t go into the horrors that this could conjure up – besides – you’d never sleep again for fear of it haunting your dreams – nightmares is possibly more appropriate).

But, the point was, due to changing room horrors – of the communal sort or not, I have not been swimming-equipment-shopping in perhaps six years (why is it called a “bathing suit” anyway? - Seems like the lazy option when in a Swimming Pool.., ah, actually – I think I see now). So I had to dig about in my drawers to find something vaguely suitable, followed by digging around in the bags that I had put aside for charity, which is where I found my only option; a limp looking striped number in two parts…

I, naturally, didn’t bother to try it on before stuffing it in my stewardess bag, distantly remembering that it had been too big and therefore surely would at least fit now.

Yes – I know – if you’ve read any other post, you will be clear that this was a foolish, but typical, error. On the first day there I put said number on. Horrific. Honestly – baggy in all the wrong places (which would end in a rather embarrassing incident three days later), totally unsupportive (I think you know what I mean) and, worst of all, not substantial enough to cover my not altogether minor wobbly bits (of course it wouldn’t be – I know that’s what you’re thinking – it’s a BIKINI – FOOL).

So the sight of this horror in the mirror is what almost made me come home the same colour as I went, however I was persuaded after an hour of crying and howling about my similarity to a whale, I was persuaded that there was indeed no-one else in the pool – and what’s the point in spending four days in 42 degree heat, sitting inside feeling miserable.

God, this is a long post – I said I’d tell you more about the Sierra Nevada, but it’s going to have to wait – because I only have room now to tell you about why one should wear baggy bikinis with caution…

So – three days later, I made the huge error of deciding to dive into the pool. Do I need to go any further? It’s a baggy bikini. I did not still have it on when I surfaced. Luckily, however, I am still amused enough to be giggling whilst writing this. But let that be a lesson to you…