Mrs Blobby's Wetsuit

Mrs Blobby’s wetsuit

Who remembers Mr, Mrs and baby Blobby?

Creepy as fuck, from what I remember.

Mr Blobby used to give me nightmares but he seemed to chill out after he settled down with Mrs and baby.

Their bouncy, jiggling movements were set in my mind’s eye.

Whenever I used to run down the beach in my swimsuit, when I was younger, I could hear the Mr Blobby theme tune resound in my head, as my wobbly legs danced to it; much to the bullies’ entertainment.

I have since found a whole new love for my wobbly bits and I think they look pretty damn awesome in a bikini, so I am now buying new sets to show off this summer!

Bikinis, for me, are the way forward.

There are, however, occasions where a bikini will fail you, tremendously.

*NOTE TO SELF: Do NOT wear a bikini underneath a wetsuit

I experienced my first scuba diving taster session in Egypt, home of Mr Grunt.

I am still under the impression that Mr Grunt quite possibly had a ‘chat’ with the dive centre, prior to this occasion, to spite me; because we all know what a glorious time we had together.

I am still scared of the open water, but it is one of my all-time goals to be certified as an open water diver and face my fears.

I was very nervous signing my life away at base, that I don't think my mind was totally with it.

I was ‘measured’ for a wetsuit – when I say measured, I really mean being asked what size I am in the UK by someone with broken English.

They only go by small, medium or large. So I said large.

Their ‘large’ must be the equivalent of a tiny medium over here.

I was wearing a very nice bikini that I purchased from George at ASDA, so you can imagine what little support it gave.

The dive was the next day and I was all prepared to wear a swimming costume with the wetsuit; I never thought about trying one on before the dive.

I was lucky that no other hotel residents were there at the time as I was given a short suit to try on.

And here's why...

Let me give you the 10 step guide to putting on a wetsuit with marvellously, massive proportion.

1: Make sure the suit is on the floor (NOT in the sand): Dip your feet in to each leg hole, if you can find them

2: Squat down (do not bend) to take the rest of the suit by the hands, ready to pull up the legs

3: Tell your legs to wiggle in time with your bum as that familiar twinge of panic fogs your brain when the suit starts to get incredibly tight around your thighs

4: Keep wiggling. The suit should now slip over the bum and toward the boobies; ignore the roll of fat that has been picked up along the way, you’ll deal with that later

5: Be sure to practice contortion so your arms have a hope in hell of getting in the tiny holes provided, which have now ended up wrapped around your back.

Warning: your boobs WILL be planning the great escape from the depths of the folds

6: Tuck in all escapees down the front of the suit while gingerly running the zip towards your chin, hoping the teeth of the zippers will meet each other and not your bare skin! Remember to continuously wiggle that bum under the illusion that it helps the flubber behave under the rubber

7: Once the zip is up, proceed to breathe out and feel every single wobbly bit cry under the tight, unnatural extra layer of heavy skin

8: Caution: You will look like a sack of sprouting potatoes, ready for a swim. DO NOT LOOK IN A MIRROR: You will either laugh, or cry; neither is a good move

9: Be sure that all dive crew were watching the above steps, it's important to give them a giggle

10: Hold in that pressure fart, using whatever dignity and energy you might have. Try and attempt to walk around without that fart escaping. Huge skill is permitted!

Once the wetsuit was on, I felt like a bloated starfish but I was proud of having squeezed into it. But - then I had to take it off...

I pulled the zip down, again, being very wary of my bare skin.

Have you ever seen a sped up time-laps of a flower blooming?...That was my chest.

My boobs flopped over the zip line, almost leaving the bikini top behind. The nipples didn't care that the zip teeth were fully exposed, my hands had to make the swiftest of movements to tame the boobs back.

Once the pups were free, the zip had a mind of its own; the suit flung open and the zipper flew down with such speed that it vibrated over my flubber.

My wobbly tummy gave a sigh of relief and my bum suddenly felt lighter as the suit slipped down my legs and off my feet.

And....breathe.

That pressure fart may have escaped.

Diving is still one of the most incredible experiences of my life and I highly recommend it, wetsuit and all.

Love the body you own x


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