Bula Baby!

Bula, Hello, G'day, Hi-how-are-ya!

Why all the cheery greetings you may wonder. Well, after months of my whinging to Muscle Man that I NEED a holiday to escape the daily grind (and my treadmill), we are but a hairs freckle away from booking a trip to beautiful Fiji! HOORAY!

It's been almost a year since our last holiday and at the time I just happened to be 37 weeks pregnant with Bob. So really, it almost doesn't count. At last, in just a few short months I'll be sitting back on a deck chair, a fruity cocktail in hand, sexy Fijian with a palm frond feeding me peeled grapes, and a tan to boot! See, I'm dreaming already.

In all seriousness though, the prospect of a holiday in tropical paradise does bring with it the very real and daunting thought of swimmers!

Growing up a bit of a fatty, I was never one for swimming, school swimming carnivals, the beach, summer, and of course - midriff tops and cut off jeans (hey, I was a child of the 80's). I was the token gal wearing jumpers in summer and sitting beside the pool pretending I couldn't swim, or worse, eating so I could use the parental "I have to wait an hour for my food to digest" lie. In truth though, I always knew I was missing out on all the fun and frivolity because my self esteem was so low and my thighs seemingly to big.

Well, this holiday I AM determined to go swimming with confidence.

Our last holiday took place in September of last year, to attend my cousins wedding in Palm Cove, Cairns. It was a fabulous holiday and an absolute highlight was snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef, whilst pregnant with an active baby on board, kicking away as I floated whale like, in awe at the tropical fish and coral below. Did I wear swimmers then you may wonder? Well, yes. I had board shorts and a swimming top - but somehow the enormous belly in front detracted the eyes from the other flaws I can otherwise see.

Realistically, a downside of this holiday was the fact that in my beached whale, waddling state, it was a laborious task to enjoy the day-to-day relaxation whilst sweltering out of my skin and requiring cranes and pulleys to get up off the local beach. I should have just stayed beached. After all, the Daintree wasn't going anywhere.

So, with that in mind, this holiday to Fiji I plan on doing nothing but snorkeling, cocktailing, beaching, sight-seeing and more snorkeling. With all this time immersed in water, the reality is I plan on spending time in swimmers.

For anyone who has ever battled the bulge (or is battling the bulge) you will understand all to well the panic attacks and irrational thoughts that accompany swimmers and public. The mind starts racing a million miles a minute, your palms get sweaty, you start feeling faint and before you know it you have chickened out by buying a serve of hot chips in a paper cup (an hour to digest), or dived head first into the pull still wearing your sarong.

With these thoughts racing through my mind already, how am I going to face the Fijian coast line (and all who occupy it) with swimmers on. Real life swimmers. Not knee length board shorts and a kaftan (although, surely the kaftan originated in Fiji so I'd fit right in) but actual "I've got confidence and am willing to show you" swimmers?

Hmmm, well I guess I've got a few months to figure that out. Stay tuned!

NB: Our resort has a gym! Very deliberate move that one. If I'm not running along to sand Ala Bo Derek style, I'll be running on the treadmill. Hey, it's only MINE I want to get away from ;o)