Saturday Stories, Part III (The Late Edition)

I know the timing is impeccable, with it being American Thanksgiving this week, but this story actually takes place in October, during Canadian Thanksgiving. See, this story marries my two worlds. Awe, precious moments...

Thanksgiving Surprise
By Chrystie

My extended family goes to the bustling metropolis of Grand Forks, North Dakota every Thanksgiving. And when I say EVERY Thanksgiving, I mean EVERY. THANKSGIVING. They started this tradition before I was even born. To me, Thanksgiving weekend is not about turkey or cranberry sauce. It’s about shopping at Target, eating at a local dive of a buffet restaurant, and swimming. It’s about sitting poolside till we get kicked out and modeling our new Christmas dresses. Thanksgiving ROCKS in my world.

I absolutely LOVE the fact that Ellie can now make this HER (Canadian) Thanksgiving tradition. She loves spending time with all her cousins (1 first cousin and 7 second-cousins). She delights in zipping around from hotel room to hotel room, saying hi to Aunties, Uncles, Oma, Opa, Grandma, etc. She also adores swimming.

I, on the other hand, do not. Nor does Richard.

BUT, I want Ellie’s Thanksgiving memories to be as fond as mine. So, during that weekend, I unenthusiastically throw on the ole bathing suit once or twice a day, and lug the sweet girl to the pool.

Now, in order to fully grasp the climax of this story, you have to understand how full the hotel is during Thanksgiving weekend. We book our rooms 2 years in advance. Every room is taken. The hotel swarms with Canadian families, spending the long weekend in the States. Families who, like mine, gather poolside to play games or chit-chat.

And, in order to get from our room to the pool, I have to walk past quite a few of these aforementioned families.

Carrying Ellie to the pool means that the only real portion of my body exposed to the hotel world is my backside. My way-too-overgrown backside. The “if my pants fit in the waist, they’re always too small for my butt” backside.

But, for Ellie, I waddle my way to the pool, allowing everyone a front row seat to the booty parade.

Fast forward to Saturday of the Thanksgiving weekend. It was our second day in Grand Forks and it was my third time swimming. Ellie and I had a grand ole time in the pool, and we were back in the room, changing out of our wet swimsuits.

Richard was in the main room, changing Ellie back into her clothes. I was in the bathroom, taking off my swimsuit.

It was the first time I actually LOOKED at my bathing suit before hanging it up on the shower curtain rod. The first time I saw IT. I screamed in horror! “OH. MY. WORD.!!!”

This is what I heard, coming from Richard’s voice in the other room:

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you that your swimsuit is all worn out in the butt and you can see through it. You should get a new one.”

WHAT???

Third time swimming. Third time walking past a hotel full of guests. Third time I actually stopped to talk to people on my way to and from the room and pool. Third time everyone got a perfect view of my butt crack.

First time I noticed anything wrong with my bathing suit. First time Richard mentioned anything.


Aren't you glad I'm giving you the PG-rated visual? That seam in the middle of my hand is where the ole butt crack would be. Explanation enough?!

The good thing is that it takes a lot to embarrass me. Because Ellie had such a good time in the pool, I wasn’t sorry that I sauntered my naked-butt around the hotel. But, it would have been nice to have known about my transparent bathing suit so I could have worn a towel or bee-lined my way to and from the pool.

Needless to say, I bought a new swim suit. No more traumatizing innocent bystanders.

Happy Thanksgiving!