Hell Hath No Fury

I hate being a cliche.

I like to think of myself as different, not stereotypical, a person who marches to the beat of a different drum. Yet, here I am, about to embark upon an activity that is known for being hated and I wish that I could say that I was one the rare few who found this endeavor to be most enjoyable. But, alas, today I will put on my hat that says, "I am just like everyone else" and loudly proclaim:

I hate swimsuit shopping.

And that is exactly what I have to do this evening.

Apparently Marquette, MI has beaches (I really need to brush up on my US geography) and when you go to beaches you need a swimsuit. I do not own a swimsuit. I am an Irish, pasty white, red head. Me and the sun are not friends. I taught myself how to swim and the best I can accomplish on a good day in the water is not dying. So, perhaps, you can see why I do not currently own a swimsuit.

But I've never been to a beach. And this whole trip is about going outside of the box - my comfort zone - and doing things a little different. I guess that includes a swimsuit. But I'm not going shopping alone. Oh no. I'm taking reinforcements. One of the few people who will actually tell me that the plaid bottoms make my butt look like a sumo wrestler playing golf - my mother. I can always count on my mother for an honest opinion - whether I want it or not. And best of all, she'll buy me pie to drown my sorrows in when it's all said and done.

I love my mommy.