And now for something completely different.

I need to confess to using Performance Enhancing Substances.

It's true. My name is Barb and I'm on a whopping case of steroids and if I may just say so, I now get the allure. Today, I went to the MALL (ME! The MALL!) and I tried on SWIMSUITS! (ME! SWIMSUITS! AT THE MALL!!) and I didn't come home and CRY. (ME! Swimsuits!! At the MALL! NO CRYING!!!)

Though some freak accident that could only happen to me, I lost my swim suit when we were in Alabama. Now, granted, it was the one I bought after Jane was born in 2000 but it was still in good shape and more to the point, it was the most only flattering acceptable one of all of my swimsuits. (As in, I could bend over and not moon the world with a flash of flesh so blindingly white that it would alert the national security counsel that someone was signalling aircraft.)

I tried to buy a new swim suit last year but my husband painfully told me that the suit was an "old lady" suit. (It had one of cute little skirts! Jane had one with a skirt! She looked adorable!)

(I'm not Jane!)

And then my mother said, tactfully, "My GOD, that suit is unflattering. At first I thought, 'how much weight HAS she gained?' But now you look like yourself again." I decided to ditch the suit.

Call me crazy, but I can take a hint.

But anyway, my suit disappeared in Alabama and all I can think is that it either blew out of my FIL's boat OR the ghost of Henry Wells stole it as retribution for disturbing his haunting grounds. Whatever the case, I had to have a shot of tequila and head to the mall. (Just kidding about the tequila. Really.)

I will spare you the picture of ME in my new suit but here is the suit itself.


That's a terrible picture but you can picture it, right? Basic black. No skirt.

Take a closer look at the label, though.



I don't think I have to say anything more, do I?

I would have been very much more depressed but I'm on this incredibly large dose of steroids because of the setback with my foot. I saw my wonderful doctor yesterday. (His wife gave birth on Tuesday for those of you keeping score at home. Little boy. Reed. SO CUTE.) Anyway, not only am I on steroids for the tendinitis in my foot, but I am also back in the infamous Boot. Only I had to get a new one because my old one wouldn't hold air anymore. (I swear this isn't because I washed it. As far as the insurance company knows, anyway.) Here it is:



And if you look carefully, you will see a little label on it.

(I tried to rotate the picture for you so that you could see the label without getting a head rush but I couldn't do it.) Anyway, the label says "SM." Despite the fact that I went bathing suit shopping today, this does NOT stand for sado-masochistic. It stands for SMALL.

Yes, indeed, my FEET are small enough to be labeled as such.

And given that I haven't exercised since January when all the foot mess started, and given that I've been doing a fair amount of EATING here in the Land of Denial, not to mention DRINKING (It's summer! I'm on vacation!), it is the ONLY part of me that can carry that label.

Luckily, the steroids are totally making me feel like Ah-nold in The Terminator. Nothing can get to me --at least for the five days I'm on them, right?

My pledge is that by the end of the year, my new bathing suit will be too big.

Read my lips and make my day and I'll be back...