June 2, 2011
Bathing Suit Shopping is not for Sissies
I went bathing suit shopping yesterday and this is not the bathing suit that I purchased. I have come to the sad realization that my bikini wearing days are over. Actually I came to this realization several years ago, but I must have secretly held out the hope that maybe one day I might wake up one morning and be 21 again. After bounding out of bed with no aches and pains, I would take my cellulite and wrinkle free body, to the local mall and shop for a teeny tiny bikini like this gal in the photo wears. I might even buy two because I looked so great in a bikini! Then I'd stretch out beside a pool slathered in baby oil and wait to be admired by all the boys. Then I'd go for a drive in a Trans Am and french kiss beneath the moonlight. Maybe even get a hickey.
I know this has nothing to do with writing or waitressing, but after spending an afternoon beneath the sharp glare of dressing rooms lights, trying on bathing suits yesterday, I realized there was still part of me that thought I could turn back the clock and be my 21 year-old bikini wearing self again. That ship has sailed. That train has left the station, and every other cliche you can think of which means there comes a time when you better embrace what you have instead of wishing for what you once had but ain't ever happening again. Besides, I don't want a hickey. I don't need one more thing that looks like a blotch on me.
There was once a woman I knew, slim, trim, pretty, who wrote an essay about the small pooch on her tummy when she wore a bikini. She evened named this pooch. Seriously. Give me a break No woman who has a flabby belly ever thinks her fat is cute enough to name. Please. That's like wanting it to stick around so you friend your fat. Who does that?? A guy might name his belly because, well, he's a guy, but not a woman. And it was obvious she could make light of how her tummy looked in a bikini because she was skinny!
Here's the bathing suit I bought yesterday at my favorite store, Ross. I love a deal. I told Juan (my fashion consultant )at work last night about how it looked and he said I sound as if I'm still in the 60s. At first I thought he was saying I was in my 60s, but then realized he was saying the 1960s. Well, I liked the 1960s. I was alive in the 1960s which is why I don't wear a bikini anymore. So with my new suit, which I got at a great price, by the way, I can don the skirt when I leave the water and hide body parts that don't need to be seen. In the water, I can pretend I'm a happy seal in my slick black suit.
Juan says next time he wants to help me shop. I won't be putting myself through another bathing suit shopping experience again for awhile. This last one made me want to rush home and open a bottle of wine. For all women of a certain age, I applaud each of you for having the guts to actually go bathing suit shopping. One more thing why can't dressing room lights be dimmed? I thought the world was going green. Those bulbs in the dressing room are high wattage. And the mirrors in there. I think they are magnified, and once were used in a circus fun house. One of these days I might just give up all together trying to fit in a bathing suit, and go swimming in my clothes. But then that will probably mean I've gone senile. Come to think of it, I won't care what I look like because I won't know who I am. Maybe then I might start wearing a bikini again.