More Swimwear, Less Crazy

I'm reeling in the crazy today. I did not intend for this blog to be a forum for my angst, so bear with me folks. It has just been a very a rough week that culminated in a dirty bird pooping on the baby while we were on our walk yesterday. I'm turning the page today and deleting it all from my memory. 

Anyway, here's the swimsuit I am considering for our vacation. What do you think? I have mixed feelings about paisley. What's paisley about really? Is it supposed to look like microorganisms cultured in disco growth media? I knew this girl in Seattle who got a tattoo of a paisley. True story, it was a single paramecium-like paisley tattooed onto her forearm. It was ugly and pointless and she spent a lot of money having it lasered off. 

But this suit is kind of pretty. The color is nice and the runching is cute. I think the straps will hold my chichis in, and I think I could bend over without any of my badonk falling out. But then there's the paisley issue. It's as dividing as Israel and Palestine, almost. Any opinions out there, my friends?

On Avoiding Perverts In Swimwear

After my last post, it was gently brought to my attention that I would look quite boobylicious in this swimsuit.
I suppose this should have been obvious to me, since I've had a big old rack since my teen years. Since the baby came, they have truly become TERRIFYINGLY GIGANTOR (yes, that is the medical term). I have Godzilla boobs, and Godzilla is obviously a lady (As evidenced by the pregnancy induced RAGE and catfight with Mothra).
Anyway, sometimes when I am shopping online I completely forget to shop for my body type, and instead shop for what I wish my body type was. It is a dangerous and expensive habit.
I am not a fan of wearing swimsuits that showcase my chest. This is partially because I've had unpleasant encounters with masturbating exhibitionists, as well as with catty women who felt compelled to ask me if my cleavage is artificially enhanced. Lame and lame. I'd like to avoid any such future encounters.
It still bothers me that as a teenager I had some adult men expose themselves to me. This happened more than once on the beach. Ick. It's hard for me to separate these instances from my bikini, and from having larger breasts, because I really felt that they were pervert bait hanging right there in front of me.
That is a whole post in itself that I'll write another time. These incidents stopped when I grew into womanhood. Apparently as soon as I resembled an adult I lost my appeal for the creeps in my neighborhood.
There really are a lot of predatory men out there, and Ceci will be trained with a crossbow as soon as I can manage it.
Anyway, now that I've got that off my chest I can move on to swimsuits.
My very helpful friends threw some comments and suggestions my way.
K. suggested this one. Lovely. But I can imagine my boobs sneaking out the top.
A. from This House Gets Crazy at Three O'Clock mentioned this one.
And KJ thought I might want to be even MORE modest and go this route. I mean, if any perv tried to wag his johnson at me in this getup, I'm pretty sure God would smite him immediately.
Have a lovely weekend!

Cake and Martha, Again.

My friend's birthday is creeping up and once again I'm in cake brainstorming mode. Lord I love cake. Look at what I ran across on Martha Stewart's site!

Lovely and amazing? Yes, of course. But isn't it also just a little... creepy? This is basically  a princess party cake, but for grownups. And according to Martha this cake is inspired by.... wait for it.... ruffled tap pants. Jesus. I try Martha. I try to understand you and Gawd knows I've defended you against the haters. But it's time to lay down the pipe, and retire the tutu and tap shoes for good. You're no Ginger Rogers,  or a princess and neither am I. Also, the Ruffle Tower Cake recipe doesn't bother to mention flavor or  taste, it just stands there, defiantly tall and ruffley. If you need further proof of Martha's impending break with reality check out this monstrosity of a birthday cake.
I welcome any and all cake suggestions this week and Martha- if you're reading, call me. I can be your stay-at-home nurse. We can take psychotropic meds together and ride horses at midnight.


In baby news, my child has successfully replaced me with a breast-shaped toy. I wish you could see the way she goes to town on this thing. Mommy who?

She also has a Bumbo chair. 

So, as the person who suckles her and props her upright, I am now redundant. Who knew it would happen so soon? *weeping*

Anyway moving on. Those of you who know me in RL (that's "real life" for those who are not as sadly geeky as me) have heard of my impending trip to Hawaii. Hawaii Hawaii Hawaii. I think and talk of nothing else. That's right Mother Truckers, Hawaii. Let me know what you think of this swimsuit. I'm not prepared to wear my bikini five months postpartum. I'm no celebrity with my post-baby body looking bodacious. No way. I have wobbly bits where wobbly bits do not belong. Luckily, I truly like the retro swimsuit look.

That is all for now. Have a great week my friends.