Boomerang Effect

Ah- the boomerang effect. This is what happens to me, whenever I judge someone.  It comes back and bites me in the ass, HARD. Allow me to let you in on what happened this time.

Many of you might recall my recent post, titled "Top Ten  Things You Will See at a NJ Water Park." I poked fun at the majority of the people I saw walking around Hurricane Harbour, because, honestly, they looked so God-awful. Guess what? I should know better by now...

I took a trip to the beach with the kids and The Husband today, wearing the same bathing suit I wore to Hurricane Harbor. After what I witnessed at HH, I felt pretty darn good in it. I was still riding high on that false confidence I had gained, by comparing myself to all of the worst possible fashion disasters I had ever seen. When I walked over the dunes and perused the scene before me, I was ready to see the usual sad Jersey shore suspects that  greet me. But that's not who I saw staring back at me.

My beach, was full of impostors. Where were all of the skirt wearing mommas? MIA. Where were all of the old people who usually pitched their ginormous umbrellas and bitched non-stop about  how cold the water is? They too, were MIA. Also missing in action were all of the families with fifty rug-rats that hang out at this spot, running around and playing. It was so odd. But then, I spotted the Others.

 

Who was sitting up on my beach? A bus load of  freaking bathing suit SUPERMODELS. That's who! No one was less than perfect. Not one of them. Not one  ounce of cellulite, not one stretch mark. NO imperfections, at all. Their bathing suits (despite being the tiniest scrap of material imaginable) were all designer. Everywhere I looked, there was nothing but youth and PERFECTION staring back at me. And I had to laugh. I felt the maniacal laugh as it welled up inside, and when it came out, I actually snorted. I snorted!

Unfortunately, my pig-like snort garnered their attention. The Supermodels whipped their heads towards me in unison, looked me up and down, and then dismissed me with a simultaneous sneer.. They were so in sync with their perusal and dismissal, it was clearly a move they've performed many times before. And perfected.

One look at me, my three kids, and all our shit strapped to The Husband, I was the embodiment of every one of  their nightmares. Standing there, in my ginormous cover-up, I was the Queen of their Hurricane Harbour Horrors! I could practically hear their thoughts, as they screamed from their eyes and projectile vomited at me, from across the sand:  "Kill me, if  my  life  or body ever turns into  THAT!" 

I resigned myself to it being a VERY hot day, because there was NO WAY IN HELL I was taking off my cover up now. I would put up with the mad swass, it was better than the alternative. After The Husband set up camp (don't feel bad for him, he enjoys lugging all of that shit down to the beach, so he can impress everyone around us with how fast he can pitch his tent) he took the girls down to the water to go for a quick swim.

As many of you  know, I do not swim with things. This left me out of the wave riding party. I watched in horror, as The Husband shed his shirt, and I saw how much weight he had actually lost.  I have to admit, he looks pretty darn good. HE did not receive the derisive blow off and dismissal I had. Oh no, a couple of those skinny bitches were giving him the once over! Mother Freaking F'er! Can you imagine the steam rising off the sand around me?

I tried to ignore the ugly green eyed monster of jealousy that has always reigned supreme inside me when it comes to other women ogling my man. I pulled out my book, and tried to read, but the pages were kind of fuzzy. Then my stomach made such a racket, I was sure they would hear it over at Supermodel Central. That's when I remembered, I had consumed two Big  Gulp containers of coffee, but zero food intake. My stomach growled again. I turned up the music.

A while later, The Husband and my girls came up out of the water demanding my attention and towels. I was forced to turn down the music, so I could hear what they were saying. Unfortunately, my stomach made a repeat of  it's "feed me now" groanings, and The Husband heard it.

Just so you know, The Husband and I don't  go anywhere, without packing enough food to feed an army. (Or five hungry Italians) But because The Husband has been in  lock down on the fattie foods, he packed light for our beach trip. When he handed me a turkey sandwich, on thin whole grain bread, I was happy. For a second. Because that's when I saw it. The looks of horror on all of the Supermodels faces! Their mouths all formed perfect, surgically enhanced O's. And that's when I realized- even though this was what our version of "eating healthy" looked like, it was, to them, in fact a sacrilege!

UGH- CARBS, The horror!!

We had just committed a monumental model sin! How dare our fat assess sit there and nosh on CARBS?  I could hear their thoughts screaming across the sand and vomiting at me again. "Holy crap that fat beast should not be strapping on the feed bag!" "People who eat carbs shouldn't even be allowed on the beach!!"

My turkey sandwich kind of turned into mush in my mouth. I scarfed it as fast as I could. It's really hard to eat when starving people have their hate filled eyes boring into you. I really wanted to leave. I wanted to run my swassy, ginormous rear home so I could cool it off by swimming in my very private, thingless, pool. And, despite all the hate thrown at me, I was STILL hungry.

That's when I heard it. Oh My Gosh. The nail in my coffin. The ice cream man was standing at the entrance to the beach, ring-a-ding-ding-ing his bells. I swear he was shaking them directly at me.

I am, as conditioned as Pavlov's dog, to the sound of the ice cream truck, SO I started to drool!! I think it was the pool of water forming at the arm of my beach chair, and drip, drip, dripping into the sand, that gave me away.

The ever helpful Husband, jumped up and started across the sand, before I could stop him. He was already buying me my favorite treat, (cause he is as programmed to do this for me when he hears that music as I am to drool)  He came running back to hand me the chocolatey treat, all proud of himself, for not having to be asked. He was so genuinely excited to hand the sugery confection to his wife, because he knows that it makes her oh-so-happy, I couldn't help but smile back as him. As I licked the melted chocolate that was running down my hand, I resigned myself to the hate filled stares, and the fact that, the Boomerang Effect, had once again, come back to bite me on my fat ass- HARD.