Mercedes-Benz Swim show week (actually, only five days) ended on Monday. I didn't go to anything. When I first started in this "news" business -- news is in quotes, because it's not like I hide in bushes and bust dirty commissioners or anything -- I went to all the fabo parties. If an invite showed up in my inbox, I RSVPd. Quickly, though, the free drinks and see-and-be-seen fascination wore off. Thus, when the swim shows rolled around, I let out a big old "eh."
Not that the event isn't a fabulous display of Spandex, because it is, and Miami.com was there to partake in all the fun with our very own booth, complete with videos of the shows streaming, ice coffee, games, cushy sofas and, our biggest hit, a giant fan. However, I still wear the bathing suit I bought at Target like four years ago. I go to the beach maybe once a year, as I don't care for sand and how it sticks to you after swimming in salt water, which leaves my eyes feeling like I poured peroxide in them. I also have the skin tone of an aspirin. So swim fashion isn't really on my radar.
But really, the main reason I had no interest in attending swim week? My delicate, Miami-honed self-esteem. Granted, I've accepted that I'll never have the J Lo booty that roams beaches from Ocean Drive to Sunny Isles, and I like eating too much to sustain on breath mints and cigarettes, but when you live in a city where the average woman's extracurricular activities include gym training with some guy named Xerxes and field trips to the plastic surgeon's office, you can't be all lardy and Midwestern-esque. Bottom line: the last thing I want to do for five days is look at models in bikinis.
So, I went to a place (and wrote about it) where I would be surrounded by doughy white folk without a smidgen of fashion sense. Orlando. Land of bad tattoos, denim shorts and Crocs. Land of giant turkey legs, two-foot-long churros and 40-ounce Mountain Dews. Here, I was Heidi Klum. Okay, maybe not Heidi Klum. But at least that girl from Jumper. Don't get me wrong -- I don't go to O-town to feel pretty, I go because I get to escape the glitz and pretentiousness of Miami. It's good to be amongst regular folk every once in awhile, people who think bottle service is a new Disney program for babies, or the Budweiser cart in front of the Jurassic Park ride. Plus I get to ride roller coasters. That's gotta burn at least 20 calories, right?
-- miaeditor
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What you said
Trust me, I feel you...my self-esteem was a little low when I saw all those super tall chicks in tiny string bikinis...while I do have my own small version of the "J Lo" booty my insecurities stem from not being super skinny. Guess as girls we never are satisfied with our looks. But we are all beautiful in our own way...I guess I need more training on realizing that.
After reading your story I want to go to Orlando...NOW! :)... Read more
