Bought a new swimsuit today for my jollies in the summer. With bloody Tummy Control by Fat fookin Mavis! Gone are the days of scanty, sexy, teeny weeny two-pieces. Not gone as far as one of those with a skirt to camouflage the saggy ass though.
(Don’t think I’ve ever worn a scanty teeny seeing two-piece to be honest).
It looks alright, but not as good as my red, nod to the Baywatch, super uplift number. Holy shit! For 44 I look bloody marvellous in that, if I do say so myself. Might just wear that for the entire holiday.
Pity the same can’t be said for my Wanted Dead or Alive, serial killer passport photo. Bejebus! I’ll be lucky to get through customs never mind to the hotel pool. Terrifying!
That’s if I even get a new passport. The website has decided to eat my online application before I’ve printed it out, even though it was quick enough to take my money. Am going to have to ring them tomorrow on my lunch break now. Should’ve gone old school and just got a form from the post office.
This is why I usually holiday at home. Too complicated.