Overcoming my kryptonite: Bikini Shopping

Since I can remember, shopping in general has always made me either
A. Sit down in shops, bored out of my mind
B. (Want to) Cry out of tiredness or the stressfulness of shopping.
C. Want to be a boy so I can just wear the same shirt for 365 days of the year.

I mean, shopping is just the most stressful activity. When you're looking for clothes it's not too bad and that bit can be bearable. The drama starts in the changing rooms - especially the ones with curtains. No mater what shop you go in these curtains will never fully cover the rail and there will always be a little gap where people could see you changing. Then there's the fact that wih a curtain your mother thinks it's perfectly OK to open them slightly to talk to you or thrust more clothes into the room. Meanwhile, everyone else in the changing room gets a glimpse of you in your undies.

All of this makes B and C inevitable. But years of experience have made me realise that there is a branch of shopping which is so dire that it makes regular shopping look as fun as jumping out of a plane whilst strapped to a gorgeous instructor: bikini shopping.
There are a number of things which I find bloody annoying abut bikini shopping:
1. It involves having to remove 95% of your clothing to try it on, meaning you're in a manic rush to pull the triangle-shaped bra thing on before your mother pulls away the curtain to give you more to try on.
2. Sometimes your mother/family member will wait for you to voluntarily open the curtain and show them what you look like (which, in my case, is often a state - I certainly do not suit bikinis what with my small upper half and rather larger bottom..!)

But this time I went bikini shopping the shops had DOORS. Personally, I would love to write to David Cameron to insist that all shops in England have doors as opposed to curtains. This way you are prepared for if your mother wants to talk to you by the turn of the handle and you can tell her to wait or can make yourself decent. AND no-one can see you through a slit in the curtain, even though my mother always insists that it's "no big deal" since "we're all girls here, silly" (but tell that to the line of guys waiting for their girflriends harrumph). So, anyway, I was a lot less stressed out this time - despite the fact that the first bikini made my boobs look the size of tiny cupakes and the dress I tried on was on wrong - the straps were all over the place, which the sales assistant pointed out as I looked for my mother in the waiting line (AS IF I DIDN'T KNOW harrumph).
With this cooler state of mind I did neither A nor B, though I cannot deny that C was still rather appealing. In fact I voluntarily stepped out of my changing room space in my bikini and walked to my mother. Major improvement!

Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal xxx