My parents have a very nice swimming pool in their backyard. The closest I've gotten to it is fishing the dead beatles out of it last summer.

I'm looking forward to cannonballing off the side of it this summer, though. We'll be there all of a day, and you know it will be too stinkin' cold to swim.

Which is why I was inspired to buy a bathing suit at Target today. Because in the meantime, I can wear it around the house with leg-warmers like Jane Fonda.

It caught my eye because it was red and floral and the top of it would cover my still-healing Kanga pooch. Suffering a temporary lapse of stylishness, Kendra thought a picnic tablecloth would do the trick.

So I figured I'd try it on. Even though I should have known from the size of the cups in the suit I would have better luck fitting an acorn squash into a thimble.

For the first time ever, since I had Baby Girl in tow, we used the "family" dressing room. She was all, Mom, this is so the last time we do mother-daughter swimsuit shopping.

I looked in the mirror and realized I'd been unwittingly experiencing a wardrobe malfunction. Oh. No. I did not just walk around Target like this.

My boob pads had soaked through. I had two targets on my shirt, whilst at Target.

I tried on the suit and the top was indeed too small. Oscar Mayer called. It wants its hot dog casing back.

But otherwise, I didn't look bad. No, I really didn't -- seeing as I was pregnant with a wooly mammoth and now I am not.

I got a bigger size top and bought the swimsuit. I still had wicked buyer's remorse, maybe something about not having a paycheck to, like, pay for stuff?

I took it home and debated whether to show Lovey. He found the bag but didn't open it.

He just asked me if there was candy for him in the bag. Fantastic. I am going to look like a pack of Skittles. Taste the Rainbow.