The Mom Suit

After having babies, only about 2% of us will ever return to our pre-baby bodies. For those of you who do, I say BRAVO (I hate you).

And although the rest of us no longer have that girlish figure, we are not exempt from having to strap on the one garment that was obviously designed for super models. Because once you have kids, you have no choice in the matter. You are going to spend the majority of your summers in a swimsuit. Because no one likes that mom in khaki shorts, begging someone else to save her drowning kid. Like a warrior going into battle, you gotta suit up.

When trying to find the perfect suit, don’t make the same mistakes that I did.

First mistake: Ordering one from a catalog.

The packaged arrived. I was thrilled! I raced to try it on. I didn’t order a bikini. I wasn’t blind. My days of frolicking around in those babies are long gone. I did order a tankini though. I wiggled into the suit and walked over to the floor length mirror. To say I was horrified would be an understatement. It was like all of my flesh was fighting to get out of that little opening between the top and the bottoms. This suit was supposed to have a slimming effect?

I feverishly wrestled my way out of it, threw it on the floor, stomped on it a few times, then stuffed it back into the bag. I found a tape gun, the kind used in warehouses, and wrapped multiple layers of tape around it all to teach Victoria’s Secret a lesson. I knew the secret. And they had better not ever send anything so hideous to my house again. No matter how much I beg.

It was now apparent that I would have to go to the mall because I was NOT going to go through that again. Surely in the sea of retail, I could find a winner. This is where I made mistake number two: I took my kid with me.

Upon entering the department store, I was lost gazing upon the colorful ocean of suits. What brand, what color, what cut, what size? It was just too much. My daughter began handing me every pink suit that she could find. She was obviously not going to be very much help. Thankfully, a saleswoman came to my rescue.

She asked me what I was looking for. I told her a mom suit that didn’t look like a mom suit. I warned her that if she brought me a tankini there was going to be a fist fight. She cruised around the store and in no time she had several for me to try. Good. Progress. Now came the elimination process.

Any woman who has tried on swimwear knows it’s not easy to find THE one. And by THE one I mean that one that makes you cry the least. Some of the suits I ruled out instantly based on pattern or color. I don’t care what you say, swimsuits should never be brown. That left me with six to try. Good thing I had skipped lunch. (Consider that ProTip #1, no lunch prior to swimsuit shopping.) My daughter sat attentively on the dressing room bench swinging her legs, ready for the fashion show. All eyes on me. Yay.

I took the first suit off the hanger. Don’t they all look so cute on the hanger? It was red and although two pieces, the pieces actually met in the middle preventing another Great Tankini Debacle. I slipped on the bottoms, (over my underwear, because I believe in good hygiene…ProTip #2), then into the top.

For me, the cut of the bottoms is THE most important aspect of a winning suit. It has to make my hiney look good. And by good I mean tolerable. I looked at my daughter. She scrunched up her nose and I knew, THIS was NOT the suit.

I grabbed the next one, then the next. There was a mountain of casualties piling up on the floor. About this time my daughter, who had been watching quietly, surveying my struggle, decided to speak up. She hit me with important questions like: Why does your stomach fold up like that every time you bend? What are those lumps on the back of your thighs? Why does your bellybutton look like a crater?

I had a question too: Why did I bring you?

I burned through the pile in no time. Why was this so hard? Nevermind. Don’t answer that question.

Only one suit remained. If this one let me down I was going to eat an entire pizza for supper. And ice cream. I closed my eyes and pulled it on. Through squinted eyelids I looked in the mirror. It didn’t seem TOO bad. I opened my eyes a little wider. It almost looked…cute? I turned to survey the back view and for the first time, I did not want to run out of the dressing room screaming.

I turned to my little assistant (critic). My daughter was looking bored which totally meant I looked normal. She couldn’t find anything to criticize with this one. AND THERE IT WAS! I was not going to be the most embarrassing mom at the pool this year! Yay!

I purchased the suit along with a new cover up (a mom essential… ProTip #3… you’re welcome)

I left the store feeling like the a modern-day Joan of Arc – Patron Saint of the Mom Suit! Hazzah! I came, I conquered! I found a swimsuit without a single curse word. Not a tear was shed. It was a thing of beauty.

On the way home I thought back to life before kids. The days of lounging by the pool with my best girlfriends wearing my itsy bitsy bikini. Those days are long gone. Now I arrive wearing a standard mom suit, carefully covering all the war scares. I have traded my girlfriends for four little people who call me mom. I carry a huge survival kit stuffed with snacks, drinks, toys, towels, floaties and every sunscreen known to man. Prepared for whatever comes. Because I don’t actually get to relax at the pool anymore, I am now the supervising life guard.

But you know what? I wouldn’t trade my life now for anything. Not even that little hot-pink two-piece that I wore on my honeymoon.

I’m content to just sit there and drink my iced tea in my Tervis Tumbler labeled “World’s-Best-Mom”, while watching my kids splash around. I am living the dream.

Tonja used to live in the grown up world, but now she has a husband, four kids and a princess dog. She refuses to lose her sanity, or herself. If she’s going to be the mother of four, she’ll do it in great shoes. You can read more about Tonja’s hilarious escapades on her blog. You can also find her Facebook.