50 Shades of Shame

I just bought a bathing suit.

This might not seem like a big deal, but it is for me. My current suit– the faded, shapeless, stringy, ragged, dust cloth–has seen better days.

My suit. Incidentally the Shamwow™ spokesman has also seen better days.

In fact its best day was in the year 2000, when I first purchased it. Prior to that purchase, I wore my mother’s bathing suit from the 1980s. I’ve always considered myself somewhat a fashion icon.

I was hoping it would see me through another decade, but alas, that is not possible. My toddler son takes a weekly swimming class, and we are one swim class away from him completely dismantling the top of my swim garment. He is very fond of the clutch-grip-at-the-chest-and-the-yanking-down-to-expose-mom swim stroke. So my new suit is one of armor.

It could be. I wouldn’t know because I didn’t try it on and just purchased blindly from a Land’s End catalog. It should be arriving any day now. If it fits, it will be a miracle.

This incredibly fascinating anecdote is to showcase how much I procrastinate. I feel that once I do something, e.g., go through the humiliation of trying on a bathing suit and suppress the thoughts of others who tried it on before me, then that task has been completed for the remainder of my lifetime, and I can move on to the next horrendous venture.

I weeded that dirt patch I call a garden last year…why, for the love of mulch, must I do it again? I gave birth to the one kid…why, for the love of inappropriate conversations with total strangers, must I go through it again?

I have been keeping 50 Shades of Grey at bay for some time now.

It held as much appeal as a Spam® sundae.

This is also 50 shades of f***ed up.

I don’t want to read it. I really don’t.

But then I click on Renee of Life in the Boomer Lane. She has written about the book in a way that makes me want to read the book, which I think is the exact opposite of her intent.

But today I was like “Oh wow!” and my inner goddess did the salsa with the succubus that took over my soul. If you have read the books, this sentence would make sense. I have not read the books so I am very confused by what I just wrote.

Her first 50 Cents of Rap post appeared in March. I thought “Hmm, sounds awful. No way can I put myself through that. It took days to erase Twilight from my sparkly marbled brain.”

Co-workers and friends began reading it. I would overhear snippets of conversation about  it–“anal fisting. tee-hee!”–but I would tune it out for more important endeavors like fastening another bobby pin to my bathing suit strap.

Just recently Renee compared E.L. James’ prose with the Bible using lines like “My subconscious nods sagely.” And I’m like “Oh wow? What the fuck does that even mean?!?” and then my subconscious nodded sagely, and I was like “Okay! Beat me with a string of anal beads or whatever Christian does so erotically in the book. I need to buy this lump of crap!”

And so it happened.

And my 30 minutes is already up. It took me that long to make my delicious Spam® sundae.


  1. oh. my. god. “50 shades of shame” and then the sentence right after that – “I just bought a bathing suit.” you have now won the award for blogger who has made me laugh the quickest. what’s next, a hilarious haiku? i can’t take it. everything is right about this post. everything.

    1. I blame you 100%. I could have easily ignored this tripe if you had not put some many choice quotes in your post. I’m helpless against stuff like this. I’ve seen Battlefield Earth and Glitter.

  2. I am sorry that the 30 minutes passed too quickly. I am sad for you, but I am so happy that you bought it because it means a series of blog posts from you. I demand a chapter by chapter account.

  3. How is it that I now want to order this piece of crap? Between you and Jules, I am feeling such intensive peer pressure here, like junior high, like I have to go make out in a closet with some zit face now.

    1. Anybody who’s anybody is totally making out with a zit face in a closet at this very moment. You don’t want to be the only who isn’t, right?

      Actually, I would like you to do an intervention to get me to stop wanting to read it. I’ll even let A&E film it for their latest Intervention episode. I need help!

  4. i am bitter about the book not having read it. so i am a little worried that if i do succumb to reading it (due to my inner concubine – succubus – whatever – and my need to fit in) i will be downright miserable and self loathing…….oh, wait.

  5. “I gave birth to the one kid…why, for the love of inappropriate conversations with total strangers, must I go through it again?” This is genius. I’m going to steal it for the next time some stranger asks me when I’m having me next kid.

    “My dear woman, in the immortal words of speaker7, why for the love of inappropriate conversations with total strangers would I go through that again?”

  6. I too have fought any and all curious urges to read this book. But, Speaker7 has just ordered it so I must try to have an open mind and perhaps try to read it. Such a dilema!

  7. I am so with you on the mulch! Once a lifetime is too much. Similar to the experience of reading Shades of Grey, except I’m lying about the last part.

    You are not alone, Speaker. I am here for you.

    (And I’m with Sweet Mother – this entire post is perfect!)

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