Bathing beauty

The mad insomniac strikes again. Well, it's only 1:30 a.m. as I'm writing this. Really, it's not an issue till 3:00. That's how I roll.

I love Lost. I <3 Lost. I watched it tonight, all glorious two hours of it, plus the hour-long recap, which was much needed. Usually when I love a show, I hate for it to end, but I'm digging this last season bit. I respect a story arch that reaches an appropriate and timely end. And I want closure.

I don't remember TV being this awesome when I was younger. I really don't. I mean, the late greats are always sited as M*A*S*H*, Cheers, All In The Family, Dallas, I Love Lucy. And in my youth there was the much too short My So-Called Life, plus Seinfeld, Friends, and the big hit 90210. And the Simpsons are still going strong, though they kind of jumped the shark back when Homer probably actually jumped a shark out of lack of better ideas five years ago.

But let's be serious. Cut to the now and the not so distant past. The Tudors. Dexter. Sex and the City. Arrested Development. Lost. Glee (fuck yes). The Office. Six Feet Under. Curb Your Enthusiasm. Mad Men. True Blood.

HBO has improved TV. They're not behind every good show, but they set the bar high. And despite the fact I loathe raunch, relaxed censors make for better almost everything. And I do so enjoy good storytelling, which can only be done properly when you don't have to work around too many off-limit words and subjects.

But enough rhapsodizing about TV.

Allow me instead to wax poetic about this bathing suit:

I can hear an angel's choir at the thought of possessing
and wearing this hot little number.

I've wanted it for about a year now. Frankly, with such indecision, it's a wonder it's still available. The only thing that is holding me back is my unfortunate short waist. My torso and a dwarf's torso have a lot in common. I've come to embrace empire waists. For the most part I'm A-OK with this. However... One-piece bathing suits have always been a great desire and the bane of my bathing suit shopping existence because there's always an extra 2-3 inches of fabric that has nowhere to go.

And how returnable are bathing suits anyway? My guess is not at all returnable. I don't care to purchase a bathing suit from any company that would allow returns anyway. Once a bathing suit has known some strange woman, I don't want it knowing me.

Those happy little straps are adjustable, which is good. But that torso do look a wee bit long, dontcha know. Le sigh. But maybe I should risk it. Maybe there'd be a way to alter it in some fashion. I don't care if there's weird zig-zaggy cuts so long as I can wear the damn thing.

I am no fan of the bikini. It's all well and good when you're standing up in good light, but the second you sit down, even if you weren't sucking in before, you're screwed now. I've shed tears in dressing rooms trying on bikinis, and I don't even hate my body. I've posed nude for artists. I've belly danced in public with an exposed stomach. There's just something about a bikini that brings out the worst in my shape, or in my feelings about my shape.

So fuck it. I'll just go ahead and get it.