Do you ever find yourself amused (and amazed) by peoples' white trash antics?
Sure you do.
Southern Fried White Trash takes a humorous look at the unbelievable mindset of the national subculture (and Southern specialty) we affectionately refer to as "white trash."

Thursday, March 24, 2011

What's worse, shopping for jeans or for a swimsuit?

Hmmm. That's a close call. On the one hand, trying on jeans is a nightmare because they either fit or they don't. Period. Some NASA scientist (a woman, no doubt) introduced spandex into the denim market about a decade or so ago. The move was pure genius, by the way, but it seems that now the manufacturers only mix the spandex and denim in jeans made for skinny chicks anyway, so what's the point? Sure, those women can say they now wear a "0" whereas they used to wear a "2," but I mean really. So what?

How about making some of those stretchy jeans for us big girls, the ones who really need it? I've been getting dressed using a shoehorn for years now, or at least I do when I am wearing jeans. They simply aren't going on any other way. And then, of course, you have to think about how uncomfortable the darned things are once you finally get them on! Sitting? Forget it. You can do that tomorrow. Bending? Leave it; it's not worth the health risk. Once, I bent over to pick up a pen I had dropped and nearly blacked out from lack of blood flow to my brain. I haven't done that again.

But now swimsuit shopping, that's a whole different story. I shop for swimsuits with one person and one person only. She and I have been friends for about 20 years now, and we have a system. First, we stop at a fun little watering hole under the pretense of having lunch. She and I will split a house salad (no dressing, thank you) and have 3 or 4 margaritas. Each. I know what you're thinking, but this particular restaurant is in the same mall where the dreaded swimsuits are, so we don't need a designated driver.

Then, we hit the shops. We cruise the swimsuit section of each store like sharks circling a school of fish of which they are terribly afraid. After an hour or so, we take our few finds to the dressing room to try them on. And I have to ask you, who in the hell decided that harsh fluorescent lighting was a good idea in dressing rooms? Even in the suits that weren't completely hideous on us, at best we look like cadavers getting ready to go for a dip. Every bump, lump, bulge and sag stands out in painful detail. Oh, I shudder just thinking about it.

It's about that time, ladies. Time to venture out to the stores and select a swimsuit (or two or three) that you can live with. This year, to save time, my friend and I have decided to just take a few bottles of wine with us and go straight to the stores.


  1. I hate shopping for them both. It sucks! And I don't shop wth anyone else either. You're brave to do that.

    1. Hey I never thought of it that way; I just thought I was being a chicken and taking along a friend to listen to me whine! Hahaha Thanks for the sweet words :)


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