This bottle of nail polish is called “Bikini So Teeny” and I’ve no idea why. Periwinkle, folks. Can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a girl in a periwinkle bikini, even with all the swimsuit catalogs I look through. I own a dark purple bikini bottom, like eggplant, but nothing else in the purple family. One sky blue halter bikini top, which I’ve yet to wear this season, and two navy blue bikini bottoms, if we’re dipping into the blue family. I’ve been wearing one of the navy blue high waisted bottoms with an apricot colored bikini top with gold hardware fitted perfectly to my bra size. Liked the way the two colors looked together in the catalog. I prefer looking through catalogs to magazines, most of the time, because I don’t get bombarded with liberal shit about fruits and carbs being bad for you, meatless fucking mondays, human interest stories about dipshit women trying to make every aspect of their lives totally organic or convince every member of their family to give up their cars for bicycles, or disgusting ads about women not being able to digest their food properly. I refuse to run behind a woman wearing a t-shirt that says “<3 My Lax” on the back of it, and I think most people would feel the same way. Catalogs allow me to daydream a lot more than magazines. About nicer things, too. It’s their simplicity and relative lack of opinion on anything but possible ways clothing items can be worn together. I guess I’m like a child preferring building blocks to pre-molded scenes. Dolls with blanker faces instead of exaggeratedly-drawn emotions. More basic toys for the imagination.
I wore one-piece swimsuits while Aria was here, because she was wearing a one-piece too, and she’s become rather shy over the years. I wore ruched halter one-pieces from j.crew. They have amazing d-cup suits for those of us who require that in a one-piece. One in petal pink and another in burgundy. She wore an old swimsuit of mine that I gave her the last time she visited, a year and a half ago. It still looks brand new, only wore it a few times. Black with white piping. It fit me beautifully when my breasts were at about a c-cup, where Aria is now, and then made me look like I had four breasts when much to my surprise, they started growing another couple of sizes. I bought the kid underwear from Victoria’s Secret, the 5 for $27 special, from the Pink brand section, because she told me she was getting really tired of wearing the underwear from the pack that our mom buys her from wal-mart. I totally understood. What 17 year old girl wants to wear the underwear from the pack, the same type she’s been wearing since she was a toddler? The Pink panties came with a little stuffed dog, which Aria requested in lime green, and she fell totally in love with it, though when they’re real, she prefers kitty cats. She wanted to sleep in the living room instead of the little private den every night, and I think it’s because Riley cuddled up there on the couch with her every night and purred, and Geffen slept above her head. She wore a knee-length black duster-cardigan over her outfits everywhere we went, even though it was in the 90s outside, and even slept with it on over her pajamas. She wanted to go into the pool with it on, but I told her the chlorine might damage the sweater, and she reluctantly walked in without it. Since the child turned 11 years old, she’s been constantly hiding behind something. Always something very noticeable and odd or out of place. I hope she feels comfortable enough with herself to stop that at some point, or at least decrease the intensity of her insecurities enough to pass for normal or healthy. I hope she can stop being afraid of letting her real beauty shine through. The level of her self-consciousness is almost crippling for her.
When she got back home, she started doing her lipstick like mine. She kept watching me intensely as I put mine on, lipliner first. She took a picture of herself with her lips like that, wearing one of my old dresses. I felt flattered, to say the least.
Last updated July 24, 2015