'The Bathing Suit'

My friend at work sent me this and I about wet myself laughing so hard. Honestly, what girl CAN'T relate?!?!



When I was a child, 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 pre-pubescent girl with a figure carved from a potato chip.The mature woman has a choice- she can either go to 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 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 sling shot. 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 boob cowering under my left armpit. It took awhile 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 make a full-view assessment.The bathing suit fit alright, 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 cling wrap.

As I tried to work out where all those extra bits had come from, the pre-pubescent 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.I tried on a bright pink suit with such a high-cut leg I thought I would have to wax my eye-brows to wear it.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.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.

My ridiculous search had a successful outcome, I figured.

When I got home, I found a label which read: "Material may become transparent when wet."So, if you happen to be on the beach this year, I'll be the one in cut-off jeans and a t-shirt.