It’s the time of year…
where we celebrate the Sun, Surf and Sand…
along with an occasional sunburn!
Many people take a break from academia…
even if for a brief time.
We need down time…
for rest and relaxation.
A dear friend…
sent the following to me.
There was no credit that I could find.
Most every mother…
can relate.
Scratch that.
Every sensible woman…
will get this…
and everyone…
with a sense of humor…
will be rewarded!
If you’re drinking something…
while reading…
you may want to swallow…
before continuing.
I know I did.
I’ll see you on the beach…
in cut offs!
The Bathing Suit ~ (by a middle-age woman who is unknown)
When I was a child in the 1960s…
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…
that 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 fluorescent 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 gives the added bonus…
that if you manage…
to actually lever yourself into one…
you would be protected…
from shark attacks.
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…
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 Playdoh…
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…
that 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 suit…
with a midriff…
and looked like…
a jellyfish in mourning.
I tried on a bright pink suit…
with such a high cut leg…
I thought…
I would have to wax my eyebrows…
to wear it.
Finally…
I found a suit…
that fit!
It was 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!
When I got it home…
I found a label…
that 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!
What a cup of laughter for the day, Teri! I’m still cracking up and can totally relate, although the “mature woman” label at 50+ doesn’t allow that fantasy of still thinking I’m in my 20′s and trying to get back to that potato chip body! Oh ya, that’s probably how I got to the “mature woman” look! Off to see if we have any chips in the pantry!
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You are hilarious.
But really, I was waiting for the photo of you, in your new suit, at the bottom of the blog.
C’mon Teri…it’s not fair to build us up like that and then fail to give us a show!!
Joelle
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