don't knock it till you try it: going to a restaurant alone

Last week I traveled to Regina, Saskatchewan for a work-related trip. One of things I hate most about business trips is all the enforced merriment with coworkers, including the dreaded group dinners. These aren't horrible by definition, but I just hate the way it always goes--the meeting wraps up around 5:15, and whoever is facilitating says, "Okay, then, let's all walk back to the hotel, drop off our laptops and meet in the lobby at 5:45. We've got a reservation for six-o-clock sharp!" 

But we had a giant lunch at 1:00--doesn't anyone else want to think about something other than food for an hour or so? Doesn't anyone want to go for a walk, or make a phone call, or just not see the other meeting participants for at least half an hour? I guess my introverted, reclusive nature is to blame here, and not my energetic, positive coworkers, but I will still complain bitterly. 

So on this last trip, although there were at least two group dinners, I managed to legitimately excuse myself from both. One evening I went out with a coworker unrelated to the business trip, and we had lots of food and wine and gossiped about work-related things and it wasn't nerve-wracking at all. The other nights, I somehow managed to go out by myself. 

When I tell people about doing things alone, they often look at me with pity, as if I can't find anyone to accompany me. Maybe this is actually the case, but I don't really care--I like going out by myself. Granted, sometimes it sucks--there's nothing like going alone to an all-ages rock show at the age of 16 when the band you came to see doesn't play for four hours and all you have to occupy the time is drink soda and maybe play some Ms. Pacman.    

But in general, I like to go out alone. One of the nights I waited until a little after 8:00 (two hours after my coworkers had dinner!) to go out and look for a restaurant. I found a bar/restaurant that specialized in beer. I'm not that crazy about beer, but it seemed like a good place to go alone--there probably wouldn't be a bunch of starry-eyed couples looking over at me and wondering if I'd been stood up by my Internet date or something.

I ordered some food, and some beer, and my waiter was very nice and charming but not in a smarmy way. There were other single people there, but they were all dudes. I think a single woman in a restaurant or bar is often an anomaly. This can be a bad thing--everyone assumes you're a harlot and you get lots of unwanted attention--or it can be a good thing, and your waiter comps you a beer and invites you to join him and the rest of the waitstaff later that night at the Irish bar down the block.  

Don't knock it till you try it: one-piece swimsuits

In The Meaning of Sunglasses, a book about style that I really enjoyed, Hadley Freeman weighs in on a variety of fashion topics (ankle boots, the etiquette of beauty treatments, hem lengths) in a smart and entertaining way. However, when I went swimsuit shopping the other day I was haunted by one of her opinions. As Freeman wrote in the book, "A woman in a one-piece bathing suit is either a professional swimmer, someone with issues about the shape of her tummy, or someone traumatized by a missing bikini top accident."  

Now, I hate my body as much as the next girl, but in my old age I've come to realize that the odds of being chased down a beach by a bunch of 12-year-old boys making fun of my awkward body are slim. (They were not so slim when I was nine years old at the Richfield pool, but that's a story for another post.) So, to prove that I'm okay with my abdomen, I boldly hauled a bunch of two-pieces into the dressing room, including some so-called "tankinis," which Freeman thinks are the perfect compromise in that they cover more skin while not binding your chest. 

I tried on all the stuff and was sorely disappointed. Everything fit absurdly and looked ridiculous. There's not much else to say without straying into Cathy territory. Anyway, despite agreeing with Freeman on many of the points she made in her book, I wasn't sold at all on the "tankinis" (a word I can't stop putting in quotes because I find it really embarrassing.) There was something bulky and awkward about them, at least the ones I brought into the dressing room. 

The time had come, I decided, to try the one-piece. Could the style really be that dowdy? I grabbed two that didn't look completely elderly and went back to the dressing rooms. They were both great! One was fushia in a sort of "50's bombshell" style, and the other one was kind of like a very short halter dress. I didn't feel like a professional swimmer at all. 

Conclusion: Screw bikinis and tankinis--one-piece bathing suits are the best-kept secret in the world of swimwear.