My friend Pauline called the other day and mentioned that
her doctor had recommended she try aquatic therapy for her bad back.
“It sounds like a good idea,” she said. “But I haven’t worn
a bathing suit in years.”
After I hung up, I started thinking about the last time I’d
worn a swimsuit.
I don’t remember exactly when
it was, but I do remember the swimsuit – a hot-pink one-piece with a modest
neckline, short skirt, and a built-in bra that was so stiff and pointy, I
probably could have speared fish with it.
I also remember the year I bought it, because it was the summer of the
first moon landing.
I wore that same swimsuit every summer for years, until the
hot pink faded into more of an off-white with scattered pink spots. Also, the
straps stretched out until the neckline drooped down to somewhere around my
navel.
 |
| The pink swimsuit after it started to fade |
But I never bought another swimsuit after that.
I think it was because by the time the pink one wore out, I
was in my 30s and at that “in-between” stage…somewhere between wearing a sexy
bikini and something that resembled my grandmother’s couch cover.
I actually did attempt to shop for a new swimsuit, mostly by
looking through catalogs. But none of the photos enticed me to buy anything.
For one thing, several catalogs contained only bikinis. The
styles were, for lack of a better description…eye opening. One bikini looked as if it had been made
from two buttons and a Doritos corn chip.
Another one, in silver metallic, looked like two strips of duct tape. And I barely could believe my eyes when I
read, “dry clean only” in some of the descriptions!
The depressing part was the catalog models made each and
every creation look absolutely stunning. I began to suspect they weren’t
actually real women, but genetically altered clones. I mean, what human woman doesn’t have even one visible body hair,
mole, scar, stretch mark, pimple, dimple or freckle? And how many women can lie flat on their backs and still have
breasts that defy gravity?
I also wondered why I, a woman whose thighs stick together
in hot weather and create so much suction, I nearly need the jaws of life to
pry them apart, had been sent a bikini catalog? I concluded it was part of some
evil scheme to taunt me. I mean, even my rottweiler would look better in a
bikini than I would.
But then I received a swimsuit catalog that was the polar
opposite of the bikini ones. The women
who graced its pages, to my relief, didn’t resemble flawless mannequins. They
had midriff bulge and saddlebags, and the only things they were wearing that
looked smaller than a size 10 were their sandals.
So what kind of swimsuits were these more realistic-looking
women modeling? In a word…hideous. Most
of the styles looked as if they’d been made from about 20 yards of 1950s
drapery material. One swimsuit in particular caught my eye because its level of
hideousness surpassed the rest. It was dark blue with huge light-blue and
bright orange flowers splashed all over it. The neckline was high and cut
square across, and the waistline was puffed out in a bubble effect, to conceal
any bulges or muffin tops. At the hips
was a skirt that flared out like a square-dancing skirt, with a rippled hem.
My first thought was I’d be afraid to get a suit like that
wet because when all of that material soaked up water, the weight of it
probably would drag me down to the bottom of the briny deep. The good news,
however, was the colors were so flashy, if I ever went missing while swimming,
astronauts orbiting the earth would be able to spot me.
Another swimsuit in the catalog all but guaranteed to make
the wearer end up swallowing half the ocean. The top went all the way up to the
neck, where the only place where cleavage might be able to pop out was in the
area of the Adam's apple. The waist was
wrapped in layers of material, kind of like a mummy, and the skirt went down to
the knees. On the plus side, women wearing it would save a lot of money on
sunscreen because hardly any skin would be exposed. And when the swimsuit
wasn’t being worn, it could be propped up on a pole and used as a beach
umbrella that would provide shade for about five people.
The different catalogs made me wonder just what kind of
message the manufacturers were trying to send.
To me, they seemed to be saying that if a woman has a perfect body, she
should flaunt it in as little material as legally possible. But if she doesn’t
look like a fitness model, she should wrap herself in something that resembles
a Hawaiian tablecloth.
So I haven’t purchased a new swimsuit in over 45 years. I
guess my problem is I’m still waiting for another swimsuit catalog; one that’s
for women whose body parts are heading toward Florida instead of saluting
Canada…one that’s for women whose butts can be found somewhere down around the
backs of their knees.
My perfect swimsuit would be classy but simple. It also
would lift the bust and rear-end, flatten the stomach, lengthen the legs and
conceal cellulite and varicose veins.
I don’t think I’m asking for too much.
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