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Raise your hand if you actually enjoy shopping for a swimsuit. If there’s a churning in the pit of your stomach, then welcome to the sisterhood of ‘You want me to shave where?’
I hate shopping for swimsuits almost as much as I despise pantyhose. Is there any worse reality than standing in a department store dressing room with interrogation room lighting and mirrors that have converted me from a middle-aged woman to a squat troll? I swear if a camera adds ten pounds, these dens of horror add fifteen.
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