Shopping for a bikini in a funky store by the beach made for fourteen year old SoCal girls with itsy bitsy boobs is a lot of fun. First they assaulted me and wanted to look in the other shopping bags I brought in with me containing books and a couple of t-shirts, and whined a bit over that for around five minutes. Then they wanted to know all about why I needed a bikini and where I was going. One of them then proceeded to hand me a dozen of pink, turquoise and leopard patterned tops, and send me into a fitting room. I managed to sneak in a couple of black ones without any glitter.
I got complemented on my ass (??!!) and they tried to sell me all kinds of slutty beach cover-ups. I managed to choose the most expensive bikini they had in there, and when I paid with my norwegian credit card showing a picture of my 16-year old self, the girl charging me started screaming at her colleagues (I swear, she was shouting all over the store) "You have to come look at this picture! It´s soooo cute! Did you ever, like, model or something like that?" Oh. Come ON. That´s the oldest flattering trick in the book, and I´m already paying for this right, so you don´t need to smother me in compliments. So this is the reason I normally shop at H&M. No customer service whatsoever. Me likes.
Ta-da! The briefs are from H&M actually. I couldn´t afford to buy new ones. But here´s a tip if you´re over 14 and over a B cup; Vix. Good support for aging women with fallen madonnas, if you know what I mean.