Too Big for My Britches

This old saying cracks me up, and usually when I use it, I'm being metaphorical. (In case you're not familiar with the idiom, it refers to someone who is over-confident, cocky, smug -- well, you get the idea.) But not today. I don't know that I'm literally too big for my britches; maybe my bathing suit has just had too much wear. It has been about three years since I bought it, and it's the only one I have that fits (or, perhaps more precisely, almost fits). I'm not in the habit of checking the seams on my clothing before I wear it, but I may start.

I arrived at my son's apartment around 2:30 this afternoon. Neither of us had eaten lunch, so right away we went out to get something to eat. We found a nice wood-fired grill place; I had steak au poivre (a small serving, just right) and he had a burger. We made a quick grocery stop and returned to his place. He had some homework to finish and I decided to go out to the pool. It was very hot and sunny. I went in the water, sat on the lounge to dry, and went back inside for a few minutes to get a cold drink. I went back out, my son joined me, and we both went back in. In our poolside chat we had made plans to drive to Cocoa Beach tomorrow, just the two of us.

When I changed from my bathing suit back into my clothes, imagine my horror when I discovered a hole in the seat of my bathing suit! To know I had been lying by the pool, sitting in the chair, swimming -- all with at least a little of my bare ass poking through -- with my son and, before him his neighbors, was horrifying. And we're going to Cocoa tomorrow! I didn't have another suit. So we headed out for the mall and had a successful shopping adventure. I've even tried my suit on -- and checked for holes -- good fit, nice suit, no holes. Disaster averted. Better to have found out today than tomorrow on the packed beach.