This weekend was fabulous - mostly.
Leisurely shopping for fun Mexico sundresses? Amazing!
Enjoying an afternoon matinee of "Slumdog Millionaire? Fiercely fantastic.
Shopping for a swimsuit? Wah wahhhhhhh.
What is up with the swimsuit shopping experience? Bad lighting and inaccurate sizes are not helpful. They should provide trash cans for purging in the fitting rooms when your favorite swim suit contention makes you look like a bloated baby seal.
(I'm not condoning purging/anorexia/bulimia. I was trying to be amusing.)
Thankfully, after putting my lovely Hubs and his patient mother through 23,454,973 swimming suit options, I found one that manages to make:
a) my boobs look a little less like cantaloupes
b) my booty not quite resemble the tasty eggplant we discussed earlier
c) me not want to refer to my body parts in fruits and vegetable terms
So yes, I have a new suit and I am ready for Mexico. Except for that pesky packing my suitcase thing.
I mentioned it in passing earlier, but if you haven't seen "Slumdog Millionaire" yet, buy a ticket tonight and go.
(For real, you don't need to see "Paul Blart: Mall Cop." Again.)
I don't know if it was the cinematography or the depth of the characters that I fell in love with more in Slumdog. The central message of love, determination and overcoming that which stands in your truly resonated with me in a way that I didn't expect.
For one of the first times ever, I think the Oscar peeps got it right.
So, to recap the weekend. Slumdog Millionaite = good. Swimsuit shopping = evil.
Below are some pics Hubs and I took from last weekend's adventure to Great Wolf Lodge. Enjoy!