It’s bathing suit season! That time of year when you get to think a lot about the state of your body, ingrown hairs and your bikini line.
You get to plop down on the beach next to your friends only to look down and realize you should have scheduled some sort of bikini maintenance before the weekend. And not – sadly – on Monday.
You get to answer questions from your kids like, “What is cellulite?” and “Why do your boobs hang so low?”
If you are ambitious enough to go bathing suit shopping, you endure florescent lighting, changing rooms with flimsy curtains barely protecting your privacy and mirrors that seem to enlarge rather than reduce.
And if you’re like me, you’ve probably marveled at the men’s speedo and thought to yourself, why can’t we women have a bathing suit option that is so sleek and simple?
Well, wonder no more my dear friends because the c-string bikini is apparently here.
This thing is insane.
It looks like some sort of colorful maxi pad and it seems to defy gravity.
That’s the whole bottom. And somehow it stays on. People are wearing this! In Europe mostly. But it’s just a matter of time before it hits our shoreline.
The upside of the c-string bikini? No tan lines! No panty lines! You can use it as a head band! Or an eye patch!
The downside? You have to wear this crazy thing and people will actually see you.
Because I am a serious journalist, I decided to try it out.
Okay, I didn’t. Come on. I have five kids. When am I sporting a c-string bikini?!
If you really want to check out how it looks (although no one can explain how it actually stays in place), click here.
But I don’t care if some day it does sweep our nation, they won’t take my one-piece away from me.
Back when I had my first baby, I was attempting to breastfeed when all kinds of crazy stuff started to happen. Like my breasts suddenly turned into hard watermelons and hurt like mofos.
And then I got a sore on one of my breasts (sorry – motherhood is hard core) because I wasn’t alternating my breastfeeding position and I couldn’t get the latch right. And gosh, I was thirsty – WHERE WAS MY ICE COFFEE?!!
I was desperate for a lactation consultant and I remember stalking a bunch of them. Well, I just learned about a new app called Maven Clinic that is super cool (especially for pregnant women and first time moms) and man, do I wish this thing existed when I was having a baby.
You can book video appointments with a lactation consultant, doula, nutritionist, mental health specialist, midwife, etc and then do a face to face appointment on your phone. It’s like face timing your Aunt Lucy who likes to think of herself as a doctor because she took a CPR class in high school but these Maven practitioners are actually experts in their fields.
They are often available when traditional offices are closed – like at night and on weekends. (You know, when you always need them.) And it’s cheap – I love cheap! About $25 for 20 minutes which is pretty much the cost of a co-pay.
Even though the app is focused on women’s health care needs, you don’t have to be a mom to get the benefits. My husband Rick booked an appointment with a nutritionist. He has Crohn’s Disease (an inflammatory bowel disease) and he’d like to lose some weight.
But Crohn’s patients have to avoid certain foods that are healthy for the rest of us, plus Rick likes to think of a steak and mashed potatoes as diet food so he needed some guidance.
He did a 20 minutes session with a nutritionist and she gave him some great ideas. He’s going to do another session in two weeks. The truth is – with his work schedule and 5 kids, there was no way he would have made it to a nutritionist’s office.
On Maven, there is also a free forum, where you can post questions and get answers from health care professionals and others in the forum.
Want to try out Maven? I’m giving away a $25 appointment with the health practitioner of your choice! Just leave a comment and you are entered. Right now, the app is available on iPhone, iPad and iPod Touch.
Note: This is a sponsored post for Maven. All ideas are my own. Please know I am very picky about the sponsored posts I choose, so when I do one it’s because I have really tried out the product and believe in it. I don’t waste your time or mine. Now go enter that giveaway!
This is what I wish someone had told me before I had kids: “TRAVEL EVERYWHERE BECAUSE ONCE YOU HAVE KIDS – IT WONT BE EASY TO LEAVE THEM OR BRING THEM.”
I took a work trip to Cincinnati last week to visit Luvs headquarters at Procter & Gamble and learn about secret diaper technology. Of course, all this inside diaper knowledge only adds to my image as a glamorous lady of mystery and intrigue. That is my image, right?
Days before the trip, I was stressed. And kind of nauseous. I made lists, reconfirmed sitters and bought a lot of food because I would hate for my children to be without super powered, extra orange cheddar flavored blasted double crunchy snacks for 48 hours.
I was pretty much stressed out longer than the actual trip. And the flights did not help because I hate that they won’t let me fly the plane which means I have to hand over my fate to the pilot.
And I become super religious when I fly. Any slight bumpy air and I immediately say prayers to every kind of deity I can think of – the more the better! Of course, the flights were fine and I landed not in Cincinnati as I was promised but Kentucky.
Apparently Kentucky borders Ohio although I’m still not convinced.
When I got there, the driver informed me that there were “mom bloggers” in town so I guess I should have been on the lookout for those crazy ladies.
The trip was quick. But I did get to reconnect with awesome bloggers, meet some very creative people, learn cool things about Luvs that I will tell you about in the coming year, eat a gigantic rib dinner and rode the ducks.
That is a car/boat. The locals give you looks of pity and amusement when you ride by them, blowing your complimentary duck whistle but they are obviously afraid to have fun.
I also found this in my bathroom of the 21c Museum Hotel…
You try to pee while that penguin stares at you.
But very soon, I was already back in South Florida and 2 year old Cash came running to the door to greet me with a….. “Hi daddy!”
He must have missed me a lot.
I recently got an order confirmation from Amazon for these…
Hmm… padded bike shorts. Despite the obvious sex appeal, why would my husband need these? So I sent him the following email…
Dear future biking enthusiast: You have a pair of these in the attic.
He wrote back…
What? When did I ever wear bike shorts?
I wrote back…
On our trip to Italy. In 2006. Remember I was 5 months pregnant and decided we should go biking through the Tuscan Hills. So we bought bike shorts, rented bikes and I lasted 23 minutes before I gave up.
He wrote back…
That was 9 years ago. How do you know we still have them?
And I wrote back…
Because they are in a box in the attic.
And he wrote back…
You have a sickness.
And I wrote back….
Now that you have two pairs, I hope you’re planning to do a lot of biking!
Meanwhile, my husband has become quite the online shopper because this also arrived…
I am not the biggest fan of stuff. You know how most people are happy when people give them presents and free things. Well, it makes me hyperventilate. I start plotting in my mind how I can get rid of it as quickly as possible.
So I never like something this big to arrive in my home. Especially something I don’t know about. Because mystery packages always ends up being a hand painted spice rack or wagon wheel coffee table.
And because my husband and I have been married for roughly a hundred years, he knows this about me.
I wrote to Rick…
I’m panicked. What is this gigantic box that just arrived?
Rick wrote back…
It’s your birthday present!
And I wrote…
But how could you buy me a present when I haven’t told you what I want yet. Never go rogue. Remember how much I loved my mother’s day gift because I told you exactly what I wanted?
And he wrote…
Just open it.
And I wrote…
Not until my birthday.
And he wrote…
Just open it.
And I wrote…
Nope. You are going to have to be tortured with the sinking feeling that you shouldn’t have gone rogue for the next few weeks.
And he wrote…
I have no worries. You’ll love it.
And I wrote…
It’s good to be optimistic.
That’s way too big a box for matching bike pants, right?
My dad got engaged. The last time he got married was in like 1967. So it’s been almost 50 years. You can’t say he’s rushing into marriage again.
I actually knew his fiancée before he did – through Rick’s family here is South Florida. So they met when we moved to Florida (and my dad came along with us).
I was really worried about my dad acclimating to Florida. Here was a guy who had spent most of his life in Massachusetts. He loves the Red Socks, still says “wicked” and lived a quiet life on Cape Cod. How was he going to like the hot sunshine, palm trees and Disney quality of South Florida? Plus, he basically didn’t know anyone in Florida besides us.
Well, it took him about 3 minutes to adjust. (I’m still working on it.)
And his fiancé was a huge part of that. They are two kindred souls and I’m very happy they found each other. She’s just the kind of person I aways hoped he’d find.
When I was growing up, I always wanted both my parents to remarry. I didn’t have that longing to see them back together but I wanted them to find someone, so I wouldn’t have to worry about them so much.
Over the years, as I got older, I realized that I couldn’t be responsible for my mother’s or my father’s happiness or destinies. They each had to take their own path. And they found their own way.
My dad says he is going to have a very, very, very, very, very small wedding.
Which is fine by me as long as there is room for one flower girl, two ring bearers and 2 junior bridesmaids (you know, my kids).
5 year old Harlowe is desperate for a flower girl position before her flower girl window closes. Whenever someone comes by the house who could even potentially get married, she throws rose petals at their feet.
She’s already got the dress. And the flower girl look.
Now all we need is a wedding date. No pressure.