Bathing Suits

Ever since I saw myself in the bathing suit from the cruise, I swore I would avoid black bathing suits for awhile. It's so obvious I bought it to look slimmer. But really. How is a bathing suit going to make me look skinny? That's asking a bit much. My quest now isn't to look 15 pounds lighter, but to have the appearance of bigger boobs. Adding instead of taking aways seems like a more realistic goal. This green suit I recently bought is cute, but didn't do the trick. I'm hoping this bathing suit from J.Crew (on sale for $26) will make it happen. I'm so proud how far I've come in the boob department.

I was a gymnast and spring board diver in my teen years. Boobs don't go well with those sports, so I tried everything to prevent them from developing. I remember watching Now & Then and feeling like kindred spirits with Christina Ricci's character as she duct tapes her boobs down flat.

And I'll never forget the moment I was reaching across my chest for a pencil in the junk draw in my kitchen and feeling the beginnings of boobs. I was around 10 or 11. Not helping matters was my mom's diagnosis with breast cancer around that time. I left the pencil in the junk drawer and walked over to the couch and sat for five minutes, just starring at the wall. I felt like my life as a kid was over. I was worried the next morning I would wake up and look like a fully developed woman.

It didn't happen. The process was much slower, but that didn't stop me from wearing the tightest sports bras under my clothes until I was in college. I associated boobs with fat and growing old. It wasn't until I met my husband Rob that I finally became comfortable with my body and ditched the sports bras. Before him, I hated my boobs. But look at me now! Buying swimsuits with one thing in mind: Bring on the boobies.
Pictures from the pool on our short trip to the St. Regis in Punta Mita, Mexico

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Still Fishing

I have no idea what day it is. The month of July has been one long Saturday. 
Follow our adventures on Instagram. :) 

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How to Stay Married for 10 Years: Distortion and Apologies

In one month, Rob and I will be celebrating 10 years of complete marital bliss. Complete. Take the photo above for example. My husband took this picture of me and my sisters in a tree house. I'm twenty pounds heavier than them but it's obvious the camera has wildly distorted me. I look like a giant ape about to swing from the branches. After seeing it, I was whining about looking huge and told him to shift his position so he would have a direct forward shot. In my most condescending voice, I told him this small adjustment would help avoid distortion. His response? "Sharon, you're bigger than your sisters. I can't change that." Whoa. What is that suppose to mean, anyway? My face dropped and responded with something like, "You're awful!" and ran off to sob in the bathroom for hours. Just kidding. I made him take another picture. And this time make me look skinny damn it. He nailed it, even with my seething inside. He knew he said the stupidest thing and apologized a billion times. It took a few hours, but it eventually became our running joke of the trip.

This basically has been the set up for our entire marriage: Rob trying to do something nice for me (take a photo), I criticize it (no, stand here!), he gets defensive (you're big!), and then surprises me with brilliance anyway (nailed the shot). Insert a trillion apologies, and in the end, we've accumulated endless amounts of inside jokes because of our blunders.  Complete marital bliss indeed.

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Staying Home All Day in NYC: My Last Resort

Since moving to the city, staying home all day is usually my last resort. My apartment has limited sunshine (except at 5am--great light then), no outdoor space, and my couch smells weird. After living here a few years, I forgot staying home is a valid option. Our vacation rental had enough bathrooms, televisions, and light switches to keep us occupied all day long without stepping foot in a car. Not to mention a pool and enough outdoor space to play with a huge parachute (20-Feet) pictured above. I shipped it out to Florida before we left. Now that I'm back, I don't know what I'm going to do with it. Maybe we'll bust it out in Central Park and invite random local kids to join us. While I would prefer to parachute my afternoon away with my extended family and old friends in Florida, there's also something magical about experiencing life with people I've just met. I'm glad to be home.
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