It’s a sad day and time to report that the Bikini days are officially over for me. One of the great pleasures I like to indulge in this time of year is ploughing through reams of catalogues and online sites scouring the planet for that perfect bikini to get me through the Summer.
From Heidi Klein to Net-a-Porter, Saks to Figleaves.com I could bet I have spent the better part of a retirement fund each year on my quest. Each time a new package arrives on my doorstep I get that small buzz of excitement – this will be the one, the one that makes my lardy bits evaporate and bring back that 6 pack that once prevailed.
With only a weeks break between a fun but overindulgent ski trip and Spring Break it was time to try and tone my tum. I hit the work out scene like SJP on a Manolo jamboree.
After a solid week at the gym I am sad to report that no matter how many carbs burnt or sit ups sat, this years muffin top does not seem to be disapparating – where is Harry Potter and his magical wand when you need it? I even caught myself listening to a tedious infomercial on some miracle cure to turn on my fat burning button or some such – at which point I kind of figured it was time to draw a line under the elusive bikini hunt.
But there’s always light at the end of the tunnel so I have now turned my endeavors to seeking out the best Tankini in town, which seems to be turning out to be a win win – I get to continue my spring ritual with a glass of vino in hand secure in the knowledge that any indulgence will be secreted under a convenient blanket of lycra.
I just made this very decision on Monday. (She says with her wine in hand.) A sad day, but at least we know it's over, right? Better than carrying on without the bod to do it.
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