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Saturday, March 14, 2009

Oh the joys of....

....The Bathing Suit

When I was a child in the 1960's the bathing suit for
the mature figure was-boned, trussed and reinforced, not so
much sewn as engineered. They were built to hold back and
uplift and they did a good job. Today's stretch fabrics
are designed for the prepubescent girl with a figure carved
from a potato chip.

The mature woman has a choice - she can either go up front
to the maternity department and try on a floral suit with a
skirt, coming away looking like a hippopotamus who escaped
from Disney's Fantasia or she can wander around every
run of the mill department store trying to make a sensible
choice from what amounts to a designer range of florescent
rubber bands.

What choice did I have? I wandered around, made my sensible
choice and entered the chamber of horrors known as the
fitting room.

The first thing I noticed was the extraordinary tensile
strength of the stretch material. The Lycra used in bathing
costumes was developed, I believe, by NASA to launch small
rockets from a slingshot, which give the added bonus that if
you manage to actually lever yourself into one, you are
protected from shark attacks as any shark taking a swipe at
your passing midriff would immediately suffer whiplash.

I fought my way into the bathing suit, but as I twanged the
shoulder strap in place, I gasped in horror - my boobs had
disappeared!
Eventually, I found one boob cowering under my left armpit.
It took a while to find the other. At last I located it
flattened beside my seventh rib.

The problem is that modern bathing suits have no bra cups.
The mature woman is meant to wear her boobs spread across
her chest like a speed bump. I realigned my speed bump and
lurched toward the mirror to take a full view assessment.

The bathing suit fit all right, but unfortunately it only
fit those bits of me willing to stay inside it. The rest of
me oozed out rebelliously from top, bottom, and sides. I
looked like a lump of play dough wearing undersized cling
wrap.

As I tried to work out where all those extra bits had come
from, the prepubescent sales girl popped her head through
the curtain, 'Oh, there you are,' she said, admiring
the bathing suit.

I replied that I wasn't so sure and asked what else she
had to show me. I tried on a cream crinkled one that made me
look like a lump of masking tape, and a floral two piece
which gave the appearance of an oversized napkin in a
serving ring.

I struggled into a pair of leopard skin bathers with ragged
frills and came out looking like Tarzan's Jane, pregnant
with triplets and having a rough day.
I tried on a black number with a midriff and looked like a
jellyfish in mourning.

I tried on a bright pink pair with such a high cut leg I
thought I would have to wax my eyebrows to wear hem.

Finally, I found a suit that fit...a two-piece affair with
a shorts style bottom and a loose blouse-type top. It was
cheap, comfortable, and bulge-friendly, so I bought it. My
ridiculous search had a successful outcome, I figured.
When I got home, I found a label which read --
'Material might become transparent in water.'

So, if you happen to be on the beach or near any other body
of water this year and I'm there too, I'll be the
one in cut-off jeans and a T-shirt!

You'd better be laughing or rolling on the floor by
this time.

Life isn't about how to survive the storm,
but how to dance in the rain.

2 comments:

Gypsy aka Tam said...

Faye,
you had me laughing and nearly rolling on the floor. You are just too much and I'll live vividly through you because there is no way I'll be shopping for a bathing suit. Cut offs and t-shirt for me. I love your writing style. LOL
Have a wonderful weekend,
Tam

Ms.L said...

That's so funny! And sadly,true!