The fam and I went on a fabulous and a much needed vacation last week to HOLA…PUERTO VALLARTA! After about 2-3 days I FINALLY relaxed and was well into the vacation vibe of engorging myself with the buffet food and drinking Mexican beers at 11:30 am. (Any earlier would be somewhat sinful We hung out at the pool, the beach (water was a startling brown this time of year) and just relaxed. With 2 small kids we only left the resort once but that was fine by me. After having spent many nights in PV in my early twenties, hanging at a resort and not at a night club was fine by me! I was here to relax!! BUT I had to stare at half naked butts all week because unbeknownst to me, the hotel was hosting a bikini model convention of sorts. I say of sorts because it was a cheesy version of a conference, kind of Barbizon modeling school meets stripper from Vegas. It was a potentially eye popping moment for my husband and all of the other male vacationers but looking closer that wasn’t the case. Of the 60 ‘models’ they were training only 2 were worthy of calling themselves models in my opinion. There was a model that my husband dubbed ‘Zeul’ which was the evil female demon with short brown hair in Ghostbusters. She was about 40 with a skinny, flabby, pasty white body. The girls were on a photography schedule that began at 7am and lasted until about 9pm. That meant that at any given moment a model was lurking around the resort with her questionable ‘photographer’ that really looked like dirty old men who took up photography to get their rocks off. None of those photographers looked like the Sports Illustrated swimsuit caliber photographers and their cheesy ‘VIP’ passes were probably made in Word at home. We joked every day that my wandering eye father-in-law could take up photography as his new retirement hobby…he’d fit right in! By the end of the trip, which by coincidence the model conference began and ended on the exact days of our trip (blurg as Kelsie would say), I was sick of looking at cellulite ridden women in thong bikinis and wondered how much these poor girls paid to be there. I know I wasn’t the picture perfect model in my bikini after 2 kids, but I certainly wasn’t thinking I was model material. I think what best encompassed this trip was when my 4 year old asked me “Mom, why does that girl who’s on the pirate ship slide, have her butt hanging out her bathing suit? Can we ask her to move?” I’ll have you know that I had nothing to do with the gang of boys who came crashing down the slide and knocked that little hussy on her a#*! Isela