After regaling you with tales of my "completely unbecoming of a mother" bikinis, I went shopping.
And found this.
Made of the sum total of all pieces of swimwear material I have ever worn in my life put together, Dave has voiced various sexist/massage her insecure ego objections, much to my delight. Either he is incredibly well trained, or I am incredibly gullible; whatever - when imagining myself semi-nude, I'll buy into any pretence that suggests I look even marginally better than a discarded lump of corned beef.
Okay, it doesn't look much. It's pretty plain. The patterned ones made me look like, not so much the back end of the bus, but more impressively - the side of a bus, equipped with more than a few clumsily mounted spare tyres and ironically, a giant Slim Fast advert. People would mistakenly have queued up to get on and off me. Not exactly what I was after.
So I settled on this. Swathe upon swathe of Mumsy bright blue Lycra. But do not be fooled by its unassuming exterior; it has sneaky hidden powers. So, in ascending order of importance...