Bathing suit

[Guest guest]

> I'm sure all women will relate to this. It's really funny.>>> >From a weight-watchers site:>>> > As we look forward to the summer season and time at the beach or pool,>> > here is something to think about when shopping for that perfect> bathing> > suit for our less-than-perfect figures.> >> > In the 1950's, the bathing suit was designed for a woman with a mature>> > figure: 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 front up at 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 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 what I thought was a> > 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 suits 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 are protected> > from shark attacks. The reason for this is that 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 bosom had disappeared!> > Eventually, I found one breast cowering under my left armpit. It took> a> > while to find the other one. At last I located it flattened beside my> > seventh rib.> >> > The problem is that modern bathing suits have no bra cups. So the> mature> > woman has to wear her bosom 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 salesgirl popped her head through the curtains and said:> > "Oh, there you are!" admiring the bathing suit. I replied that I> wasn't> > so sure about it, and asked what else she had to show me.> >> > I tried on a cream colored crinkled one that made me look like a ball> of> > masking tape, and a floral two piece which gave me the appearance of> an> > oversized napkin in a napkin ring.> >> > I struggled into a pair of leopard skin bathers with ragged frill 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 one with such a high cut leg that I thought I>> > would have to wax my eyebrows to wear it.> >> > 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.> >> > When I got home, I read the label which said: "Material may become> > transparent in water." I'm determined to wear it anyway. I'll just> have> > to learn to do the breaststroke in the sand.>>