The suit

The stinger suit, a suit that protects against the box jellyfish that can be deadly, was delivered today.

I like swimming in the sea and I know the risks.

Apparently my son Robin too, because he told me a while ago that he is seriously worried about me because he sometimes dreams that I will die during one of my daily swimming sessions after a collision with a box jellyfish and that he will then no longer have any parents at all.

Oops, that one really hit home.

“Oh…what are the chances of me running into one?” I said, trying to reassure him, and myself a little. At that moment I didn’t know what was about to happen to me in the near future.

(For those who don't know yet, read my story: 'Time left'  https://somethingels-els.blogspot.com/2024/09/tijd-over.html)

Now there is a stinger suit on my bed, fresh out of the packaging.

It's actually just like a support stocking, another precaution, less tight, but much longer. And just looking at it makes me sweat all over.

“A man suffers most from the suffering he fears,” I mutter softly to myself.

I look at the suit again. What are the chances that I will encounter such a jellyfish again?

Have I become such a wimp, or is my common sense finally kicking in?

In the warm seawater I feel good and, although my belly sags a little further over my bikini bottom every year, also light as a feather. I solemnly promised myself that as long as my belly doesn't scrape lightly over the seabed while swimming, I will continue to wear a bikini. For me, a swimsuit was always something for the far, far future. And now look what's lying there: that suit over there... compared to that, a swimsuit is a thong. Oh, oh, how I'm going to miss swimming in a bikini.

Oh no, I'm still wearing my underwear. Sigh. Unpack, pants off, pack on.

After some tugging, everything seems to be in place, the suit is on.

I look at the result in front of the large mirror.

It's black with some lines on the side and it's quite slimming. Or have I lost weight just from putting it on?

Furthermore, I see a red face, a tired look and sweat. The long zipper that I can open to the navel could show an exciting image. Now that it is completely closed, my generally unmissable breasts, like smeared mozzarella balls from the jumbo, seem to have merged with the rest of my body.

The sweat is now high in the crack of my buttocks. A deep sigh, a hint of self-pity, I already hate this suit.

Take a moment to recover, answer Roos, pour water over my wrists and tidy myself up.

Because now that I'm wearing the suit, I might as well try it out right away.

A bit awkward, because it feels like I'm walking around bare-bottomed, when I get on the scooter.

I start it smoothly (this time) and I chug leisurely from my house over the sandy path towards the paved road.

There I give it some gas and oohhhhhh, that's strange! The wind blows right through the suit. Now I really notice that I'm not wearing any underwear, I obediently squeeze my knees together.

But not for long.

Then I give it some extra gas.

Whoehoeeeeeee, that suit is nice.

About this blogger

Els van Wijlen

My name is Els (1963) and since 2015 I live partly in the Netherlands and partly on Koh Phangan. I have a boyfriend in the Netherlands and I am a (reserve) mother for my children. I regularly work a few hours as a VA for the financial administration. On Koh Phangan my day starts with a nice breakfast and good coffee at Bubba's in Baantai, one of my son's coffee and brunch places. I love simple living, lazing in the hammock, colorful people, nature, scooter riding, swimming and dancing.

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Older posts from this blogger

• Living in ThailandNovember 4 2024The suit
• Living in ThailandOctober 12, 2024Landed on a tropical island: Just call again
• Living in ThailandOctober 3, 2024Landed on a tropical island: just call
• Living in Thailand21 September 2024Landed on a tropical island: Time to spare