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It’s that time again—bathing suits are on sale.  And, against my better judgment, I’ve been known to be tempted by economy into that chamber of horrors—the bathing suit fitting room.  I know I should love my shape, whatever shape I’m in.  But the fact is, something happens when I  put on a bathing suit and look in the fitting room mirror. No matter what the bathing suit looks like, I see a white, frightening creature staring back. Clearly, the retail establishment has conspired to commit some sort of image witchcraft .  I suck it up.  How bad can it be? I hit the sale. I adjust the bathing suit straps, yank down the bottom and convince myself I look O.K.  Maybe the sit-ups paid off just a little.  I venture out to the big 3-way mirror. My confidence inches forward.  Then, I look at the woman who is walking out of the next fitting room, also in a bathing suit.  It’s Salma Hayek.

This actually happened.

This is why God created the internet. I now order my bathing suits on line.

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