Thursday, June 11, 2009

The super suit

Back in March when Joseph was notified that he was headed to swimming sectionals we were informed that he would be able to wear a technical suit.

What is a technical suit?

I'm glad you asked.

The answer is...I have no idea.

How helpful am I? Not much at all.

If I had to guess which is exactly what I am doing here it is some kind of expensive swim suit that is expensive is made out of expensive special material.

The coach emailed me a link to a site that carried "reasonably priced" suits.

Ever since Michael Phelps won all those lil gold medals at the summer Olympics a really big deal was made about the Lzr suit. Apparently, there are no seams in the suit, so there is less drag in the water. A whole bunch of world records were broken by swimmers who had the good fortune of being gifted a suit.

Well, my son, who is not like Michael Phelps, because he doesn't smoke pot because his parents don't get him to the pool as much as they should, still loves to swim and is dreaming convinced that he needed a Lzr suit. was that a massive run-on sentence, or what?

So, I clicked on the little linky in the email that the coach sent, just to check the prices of the Lzr suits.

That's when I fell out of my chair in shock.

What in the heck could possible justify spending that kind of all my inheritance and then some money on a swimsuit???

I informed my son that he would swim in his tighty whitey undies before I forked over that kind of dough on a suit.

But, because I felt bad for crushing his dream being the wonderful mother that I am, I checked on ebay just to see if any crazy person had actually bought a suit and needed to sell it. We knew that even if I got really lucky and found one for cheap he wouldn't have it for sectionals. Don't worry, he didn't have to swim in his tighty whiteys

I was mildly surprised to find about a dozen different styles of the Lzr suit and one that was in Joseph's size. The opening bid on this particular suit wasn't the equivalent of an arm and a leg only an arm so I had no problem placing the minimum bid on the suit, so I could watch it better. After all, all the other suits were going for more than the minimum bid and I was confident that I could be outbid quickly. Please raise your hand if you see where this is headed.

Several days passed and I completely spaced forgot about the suit.

Until, much to my shock and horror complete surprise, I received an email congratulating me on my win.

After I cleaned off the protein shake that has erupted out of my nose and onto the keyboard, I did what any self-respecting ebayer would do. I cried I paid for the suit. while dreaming of all the shoe purchases that could have been but that I could no longer afford.

A week or so later the suit arrived. It was not at all what I had expected.

I had assumed that there must be threads of gold woven throughout the suit to justify the price tag or that you would lay a gold brick after putting the suit on. Unfortunately, that was not the case. It felt like a really thin rain jacket. Thin as in fragile. I have nine kids. Nothing fragile survives here. So, it was with great reluctance that I even let the kids look at touch the suit with gloves on and then only with one finger.

Because I am paranoid protecting my Joseph's investment, I then put the suit in the safe in a safe place.

All I know is that he better swim faster than Aquaman with those puppies on.

Guess I should let have him try them on first.

Maybe...

2 comments:

Ginger said...

Don't you love the hoops we jump through for our children? As for e-bay...I won an auction once. Put in the min. bid of 99 cents just because I could, and WON! shipping cost me 15.00, but I got 12 pairs of socks for 99 cents! It makes me laugh everytime I think of it. I'm guessing that your min. bid wasn't 99 cents, huh?

Pink Slippers said...

I am laughing my head off at your post. What a great Mommy you are. I would have that suit caged to keep my little ones from even looking at it. Fragile? That word does not last long here either.
Wendy