The Extinct Classiness of Swimsuits (and the Women Who Wear Them)

On my quest to find the perfect swim-suit, I realized I'm living a parallel life to the brides I mentioned before...different destination, same journey.
As they browse the tall racks that overflow with satin, beadwork, and tulle, I'm directly across from them trying to figure out where this bikini string ends and the other begins.

I'm also met with another common hurdle--dissatisfaction. There's not one triangle of fabric that I feel I "must own"; the ones that are kinda cute aren't in my size; the ones that are in my size aren't cute; the ones I know everyone's going to be wearing; the obvious ones that no one will be wearing; etc. So, that leads me to an equally obvious solution: my less-than-victorious swim-suit experience absolutely must be counter-balanced by an overwhelmingly-successful shoe-shopping experience. Am I looking for justification for buying yet another pair of shoes? Maybe. But my frustration is real.

Since I became a mom, things have changed, and I'm not just talking the location of my female parts. My outlook on...well...myself, for one. Because I have a "young" look to me, I get my share of pitied looks and older women scouring my hands for their "sign of acceptance" (a.k.a. my wedding ring), like they need the comfort of knowing I didn't bail out on my future by living promiscuisly (sp?). But that's the last of my concerns.

My main concern is that I don't want to look "young & pitiful" to my son when he's older and somehow gets the urge to go through the immaculate scrapbooks I've put together of all our perfect outings. *Whoa...I better knock that off or I'm going to spiral into depression due to the ridiculousness of that statement.*

But you get the idea. I want to be his mom. Not some young woman who still dresses like she's 17 because she thinks she can get away with it. I look upon women who do that with disgust and pity because they're not fooling anyone, and if nothing else, are sending out the wrong message.
I intend on embarrassing my son a-plenty when age and situation call for it, but it will not be because his friends can't get over my has-been butt-cheeks hanging out the back of my pair of Daisy Duke's that my friend's sister's 14-yr-old daughter can't wear to school anymore because they're inapproprate. Oh no no no...there will be the usual naked toddler pictures, kisses good-bye in front of his friends, packing clean underwear, and "pee-pee" stories. All harmless; far less damaging than the sight of Mom in a tube top, ponytail, and shorty-shorts dropping off his sack-lunch while everyone wonders if she's his (much) older sister who they graciously assume has mental handicaps. Awkward.

Oh no...I've decided it would be in everyone's best interest if we left the embarrassing "visual-aids" to his dad. I'm glad everyone's in agreement.
P.S. It would be great if you didn't mention that last part to my husband. He knows nothing about it, yet doesn't seem to have a problem with it as he continually "plays along".