Camel Toe or Tits a Go Go.

Being the lucky bitch that I appear to be right now I got the chance to go to Miami for 4 days.

Digging out my summer clothes in November felt quite odd, as did the feeling of a stiff breeze round my arse when I tried on my distinctly ancient swimming costume. Inspection in the mirror showed that said costume was most definitely on its last legs, it’s bandeau top was not going to live another day to flash another gay*.

There was nothing for it but to wade through page upon page of swimwear options in the very vain hope of finding something that would make me look like Bo Derek in Ten. Even if it meant you had to stand 100 feet away and face the opposite direction.

I chanced upon a cossie with underwire so at least the girls would be nicely supported for all the Baywatch esque slowmo running I was obviously going to do. I sort of hoped that the halter neck would hoick them up far enough under my chin to shield my thighs from view if I’m honest.

It arrived and I stared at the small scrap of fabric, wondering how on earth I was going to fit my arse into it. I headed to the bedroom and started the process which felt like stuffing a double duvet into a single cover. I wriggled my tits into the cups and hooked the halter neck round before straightening to look in the mirror.

Only I couldn’t.

I couldn’t straighten up because when I did, my tits spilled forth like the Hoover Dam opening its floodgates. It was like “HELLOOOOO NIPS” and so I pulled. I yanked and wiggled and yanked some more to see if I could eke our even a couple more centimetres of length from the body. Of course, pulling a swimming costume up is not like pulling a dress up because IT HAS NOWHERE TO GO EXCEPT RIGHT UP YOUR CRACK.

My swimming costume had given me mumble crotch. You could see my lips move but couldn’t hear what they were saying so of course I did what any self respecting woman in that situation would do. I wanged on about it on Instagram stories obviously.

I bleated on for several stories about my dilemma, about my knicker splitting swimming costume, and about the negative effects it was having on my vagina. Forgetting of course that I am friends on Instagram with one of my very senior industry colleagues. One of my very senior industry colleagues who heard my vagina monologues and ribbed me mercilessly about it. One of my very senior industry colleagues who was also coming to Miami and was therefore going to see the swimming costume in all its cootchie cutting glory.

In the end I decided it wasn’t worth giving myself a yeast infection to preserve my dignity and so spent the entire time making sure my nipples weren’t about to break into a chorus of “Born Freeeeeee” and whap anyone in the face when I turned over.

*I do aqua fit and quite frequently accidentally flash my norks at the camper than Christmas lifeguard.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Camel Toe or Tits a Go Go.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s