Hey, baby! It's turned hot, hot, hot in Kansas! Time to strip off the clothes, tug on a swimsuit, and hope for the best. Yeah, right. My best days of swimwear ended about 45 years ago, when I had a cutesey two-piece red and white checked number that showed off my flat tummy and perky breasticles. Where's a picture of that when I need a boost to my sagging ego and skin?My current swimsuit, the one I've had for maybe 10 years, is a black and gold one-piece with a skirt that's supposed to conceal the fact that my gut protrudes more than I'd like. It's made of this really tight-stretch material and has a built-in bra, so I can stuff away some of the lumps. It's too bad that the suit doesn't go all the way down to my knees, so I could spare the public from being subjected to my terminal thigh jiggle. Shake, rattle, and roll with every step.
My worst-ever swimsuit was a brown and white dotted swiss number that I had in college. The two-piece top was like an apron that covered my belly, and I looked like I was pregnant. A few years ago, a so-called friend sent me a picture from out of the past--there I was sunbathing in that god-awful swimsuit, wearing oversized sunglasses and clunky leather sandals and a mouthful of braces. I look like a creature right out of the Black Lagoon. Absolutely dreadful. I tried to find the picture so I could add it to this blog and give my readers a laugh (or scare), but it has apparently self-imploded.
The fashion editor of the big city paper gave some advice today about buying summer wear that everyone should heed, so I shall end with paraphrasing her pearl of wisdom about swimsuits: "Just because a garment is made in your size doesn't mean you should wear it." Amen to that, sister.
1 comment:
Have only had one bathing suit in my life and sounds like it was the same "cutesey two-piece red and white checked number" - never been a swimmer, but used it summer of '66 for sun bathing.....
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