My oldest friend Amy came in town this weekend. We became best friends in seventh grade and I can’t express how amazing it is to have such a lasting friendship with such a remarkable person. Amy is a what I consider friend soul mate. We may not talk daily, actually – it’s usually more like once a month, but we never miss a beat.
Naturally, when she came to visit we decided to embark on one of the most unpleasant experiences one can have – bathing suit shopping. If we’re both going to have to suffer through it, we might as well be miserable together.
The conversation went down like this, over identical bagel sandwiches:
Amy: I can’t believe I’m even asking this, and you don’t have to come, but I need a bathing suit.
Jess: OMG. I need a bathing suit too. I was going to go today.
And off we went.
It was awful. It’s neither normal nor comfortable to be almost naked in front of strangers. And we both paid a lot of money for something we wholeheartedly feel terrible in.
We laughed. We cried. We witnessed horrible conversations among tweenage girls. And four stores later, we purchased.