Being Super

I wore this wonder woman bathing suit ALL the time when I was little. I would slap on those strappy, comfort sandals and be ready for anything. I remember how the bum of my suit would cling to cement; feeling all the little fibers being ripped from their weave. It suited me up for adventure and allowed for optimal spinning freedom. I was missing the Lynda Carter hair at the time (though, I am kind of working that look these days, now that I think about it) and the gold wrist cuffs were slowing me down (my mom's jewelry was more like artillery) The point is, it gave me that bad ass feeling. Like I could do anything and that super powers were not completely out of the question.

At some point, that suit was riding so far up my ass that my mother could no longer let me outside in good conscious. I pleaded and begged her to over look it. I even cut the straps in the back and tried to just halter it in the front (a born designer!) it just resulted in a fierce camel toe and my mother yelling "Basta! Daniela, Basta!" I had to let her go....Luckily, it was only a few years of substituting Liberace inspired dance recital costumes to having my mother sew me one fingerless, lace, glove complete with wrist ruffle. (Uh, Madonna, Lucky Star anyone???)

I guess my point is, I miss that Wonder Woman feeling. I had a house Tiara, (just put it on while folding your laundry, it takes off that 'average girl' edge off) I have a "Keep on Keepin on" playlist; complete with Marvin Gay's "Got to Give it up" and more recently Britney's "Piece of me" (Don't you judge me... there are some talented people behind that messy mamma)