When Is It Okay To Tell A Half-Naked Stranger To Shut-up?

This weekend, I did one of the hardest and most dreaded thing us women are forced to do.  I went bathing suit shopping.  Shiver.

There really is no way to prepare for such a shopping trip.  It’s kind of like stripping off a band-aid, you just have to dig in there and rip it off as fast as you can.  You know the experience is going to be unpleasant, but girl, it has to be done.

So I steeled myself for the torture shopping trip, grabbed my credit card and dove in.  After perusing the biggest bathing suit store in the mall, I snagged about 12 suits that I figured I had a shot at (playing the odds) and headed to the torture chambers change rooms.

Bathing suit number one.  Hideous.

*doors slamming in the background

Bathing suit number two.  Hmm, not so bad.

“Miss Miss” I hear being yelled in an aggravatingly loud voice “What do you think of THIS one?”

I try on bathing suit number three.  Puke.

“Miss can you do this bathing suit top up for me?  Do you think my boobs look good in this one or were they better in the last suit I showed you?”

Wait, what the HECK is going on outside these change room doors?  I’m now stifling a giggle.  What kind of adult woman asks for help doing up what is essentially a bra and then wants an opinion on her boobs???  From a stranger!

Bathing suit number four.  Maybe?  A maybe is good!

“Um, What do my boobs look like from behind?  Is there any hanging out the back?  Do you think this D cup is big enough?” 

Gee…she is not shy.

“Hmmm.  I just don’t know”  Back and forth, back and forth clacking heels up and down the hall.  Yes HEELS as she is trying on bathing suits,  doing little pirouettes outside my change room door.  Begging for other women, sales staff, other shoppers, anyone who will listen to look at her boobs and in general just tell her she is all that and a bag of chips.

Seriously.  Gag!

My choices at this point were either to lose it and giggle uncontrollably at her desperate child like behaviour, go out there and give her boobs a big old squeeze and tell her they were just perfect spilling out of that D cup bathing suit,  or completely lose my stuff and tell her to SHUT UP!!

Oh I so wish I was that Shut Up Girl.  Sadly I am not.  For the next 30 minutes I kept trying on suit after suit, listening to the attention seeking girl strut herself, begging onlookers to give her some love.   (kind of wishing I had that sort of confidence) Finally I can not take it anymore and…I let out a very decidedly unfeminine giggle…complete with snort.  I whisper a hasty and muffled “Excuse Me”  Grab my “Maybe Suit” and get the hell out of there!

As I attempt to pay for my teeny piece of cloth, the credit card machine hangs.  A sign?  I leave the store and go buy a Cinnabon to reward myself for all my hard work.  Don’t judge.

Almost half an hour later I return and pay for my “Maybe Suit”.  Can’t let that bad boy get away.  When you find a maybe suit you hang on to it!  As the clerk rings me up what do I hear echoing from the back “Maybe my boobs would look better in the red triangle top”.

SNORT!

Oh sweet attention seeking lady….thanks for making bathing suit shopping just a little less painful.