Me in 1994, 24 years old, at Jacksonville Beach, Florida. Let’s not calculate how long ago this was. Ahem.
Dear Tan and Toned Stomach of 1994:
I miss you terribly. I am now dedicated to starting at the ceiling and doing crunches for the next 30 days in a quest to win you back.
I am determined.
I am also really, really white.
My legs have apparently lost the ability to tan, although I get an impressive soccer mom arm tan. This is all probably a result of being under fluorescent office lighting for more than a decade.
Had I known that you and I were at the peak of our relationship 16 years ago then I would have shown you off more. Maybe I would have even gotten my belly button pierced, but then there was the time my roommate got hers pierced and it got infected and well, that was unpleasant.
Memorial Day Weekend will soon be here and I’m hoping we can be reunited in time for the great bathing suit reveal.
I thought I was ready to reunite last summer before I turned 40, but I’m lazy.
I’ve ignored you for far too long. I just can’t promise I’ll ever put on a bikini again.
I’m rockin’ the tankini now.
The 40-Year-Old Mother Who Is Going To Set Fire To The Next Victoria’s Secret Catalog She Sees