It constantly amazes me that two people can combine their genes to create new life and produce someone so completely different every time.
My kids don’t look the slightest bit alike. One has red hair and hazel eyes, one has blonde hair and blue eyes. They don’t act the slightest bit alike. One is into art and eyeliner and 90s music and wears a black biker’s jacket everywhere; the other is obsessed with skipping and cooking and Nike sportswear and brightly coloured trainers.
So it was hardly a surprise that when I agreed to let them do a little internet shopping they requested vastly different things.
The eldest wanted these …
300 “punk rock style” metal spikes to decorate her biker jacket, skinny black jeans and boots.
The youngest, on the other hand, has been combing the internet for weeks for crop tops and is very particular about how they must look. Every crop top at our local Westfield has been deemed totally wrong. Finally, she found a site called Romwe and ordered this …
A tie-dyed crop top that says “Happy”.
I was quietly amused by their wildly contrasting tastes.
What wasn’t funny was that when they left to go to their dad’s place I became completely obsessed with buying myself a wetsuit online, and lost four hours of my life to the quest.
The sudden desire for a wetsuit springs from my new affinity for the ocean. I want to be able to swim all year round without freezing my butt off. But I don’t want to look like a neoprene whale or go bankrupt in the process. I had NO idea springsuits were so exxy. Ouch.
I knew that my behaviour was verging on unhealthy and my time would have been much better used mopping the kitchen floor, but I just couldn’t help agonising over whether to go for long sleeves or short sleeves or no sleeves or a high neck or a zip front or short legs or no legs … Much pondering went into deciding which style would make me look the least fat and ridiculous.
I am now very well-versed in all the different brands, prices and styles of wetsuit there are available on the market. You’d swear I was a surfer or had some vague desire to clamber on a board at some point, but nup. I just want to avoid the squealing when the cold waves hit my belly.
Eventually I bit the bullet and ordered this …
It’s called a G-Bomb. A place in the UK offered the best discount on it, but now I’m fretting that it won’t arrive before the school holidays, when I NEED it to go beach swimming with the youngest. NEED.
I’m also fretting that the long sleeves will make me feel claustrophobic.
Not to mention fretting that it won’t fit me because the largest size they had left was a 12. I will need to eat starvation rations for the next month to have any chance of squeezing into it.
I’m not very good at surviving on starvation rations.
DD reckons there’s a perfectly good place in Collaroy where I could have bought a cheap wetsuit and tried it on to make sure it actually fits.
Wot-eva! He’s so blooming practical.
Have you ever regretted buying something on the internet?
Song of the day: Evanescence “Going under”