I have been pondering the big issues over the past week, like how early is too early to have happy hour? I’ve also been spending an unhealthy amount of time wondering how Cassandra from The Bachelor managed to go flying down a killer waterslide and keep her tiny bikini covering her private parts. Now, when I say tiny bikini, girls, I am talking basically a seatbelt.
Cass Wood opted for a tiny bit of black fabric to cover her chest and some black dental floss wrapped around her bare bottom. But the damn thing did not move. It did not even move when Cass went flying down the Tornado at Wet ‘n’ Wild and no doubt had water rushing into parts of her body that water should not rush into.
Pop culture has always been punctuated with iconic swimwear. Bo Derek and cornrows made for the perfect 10; Ursula Andress looked scorching hot as she sauntered from the ocean with a scuba belt around her flat stomach in Doctor No; and who can ever think of Baywatch without picturing Pamela Anderson in THAT red one-piece?
Sure, Cass on The Bachelor has a banging body, but the real intrigue was how the hell that bikini stayed on her body. If you do not know which girl Cass is, then let me fill you in on the plot. Poor old Cass is the bunny boiler of the show.
The model is so in love with Nick Cummins she can hardly walk or talk or breath around him.
This obsession (that is actually pretty much just old-fashioned stalking) has resulted in car crash TV viewing; you cannot turn away. Cass was somehow even hoodwinked by those nasty producers to actually read out parts of her diary (yes, she keeps a daily handwritten diary just like the one I had in Year 4) proclaiming undying love for Nick IN FRONT OF HIM. It was awkward and I nearly died of embarrassment for her and for him. But was it captivating? You bet it was!
Summer is almost here, so it is time for us to invest in a swimsuit that flatters our body shape and can hold up and stay on in the ocean and in the pool. Now that is about as rare as a whole colony of unicorns.
We all have a horror story about a top or bottom malfunction over the years. One of my first memories as a child was screaming with sadness when my brand-new crochet string bikini top fell off in the ocean and floated out to sea, never to be seen again. I loved that bikini with all my heart.
Togs are such a big part of our culture on the Coast and I have always loved buying a new pair of togs every summer. These days, I enjoy shopping for togs about as much as I enjoy walking on broken shards of glass to get to a four-hour cricket match in the middle of a blistering hot summer’s day.
I have tried throwing money in the pursuit of the perfect togs, but promises of sucking in tummies and controlling wobbly thighs are just empty dreams. Which brings us back to that first pesky question: how early is too early for happy hour?
