Texas Chainsaw Swimsuit Massacre

There is nothing more terrifying, nothing that will guarantee blood curdling screams, nothing more likely to make me consider suicide than the words "Oh, you must come, and bring your swimsuit, there's a pool!"

You know that anybody who says "Bring your swimsuit we have a pool" is either a) nineteen years old, b) high on crack or c) Brazillian. I am not any of those things so wearing a swimsuit in public is not a prospect for which I can brim with excitement or enthusiasm.

This year it is particularly challenging for me because I am facing my first summer after delivering my third baby. Three! After one you can ALMOST get your pre baby body back. After two you learn to love certain curves and the way your hip bones never did quite go back to the place they were at the beginning of your twenties. After three you are pretty much fucked. That's not to say that I completely hate my body. I mean, it looks great when I get involved in some pretty clever layering and "ruching" around my waist. And J-Lo made an entire career out of her huge ass. But it is with some sadness that I have to announce I will never wear a bikini again. Unless I develop early onset althzeimers, in which case I'll be the one in the gold lame thong bikini dribbling in the corner and you all have absolute permission to drown me immediately.

When you are chasing around after 3 children, you have to do it "the right way". That is, not dressed like you are about to be photographed for a Pirelli calendar. It doesn't work. "Tarquin, get that shovel out of your sisters mouth please." So I've been half heartedly shopping for something that I can wear on the beach this year. Its all so depressing really. Do I need "Anxiety Zone" padding or support? Oh my God, yes I think I do. A one piece? Noooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What sucks is that after 3 children my husbands body hasn't changed at all. Oh the miracles of nature. So while I cower behind a deckchair somewhere donning my best lightweight boiler suit, he can beat his (unchanged) chest and admire the bikini clad (and enticingly childless) throng that ALWAYS insists on gathering for a sodding game of volleyball about 6 feet from us. "Do you mind if we put our net up here?" "No not at all, that would be GREAT."

There is a silver lining of course. New York City does not require a swimsuit often and before we know it, its going to be winter, a season that I do so well. Everything covered up, just as mother nature (after 3 kids) intended.