Friday, January 16, 2009

Rave of the Day for January 16, 2009: 

This is one of my all-time fave funnies. Found it in the archives from about six years ago....

Shopping For A Bathing Suit

In days gone by, the bathing suit for the over 40 crowd was boned, trussed and reinforced, not so much sewn, as engineered to fit.They were built to hold back in the right places and give some 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 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 assorted designer's florescent rubber bands being sold as bathing suits.

What choice did I have?

I wandered around, and in desperation, picked out one and entered the fitting room (which is known to most of us "older girls" as a chamber of horrors).

The first thing I noticed was the extraordinary tensile strength of the stretch material. The Lycra in that bathing costume must have been developed by NASA to launch small rockets from a slingshot. I fought my way into it, 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 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 it only fit those bits of me willing to stay inside it, unfortunately. The rest of me rebelliously oozed out 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 sales girl popped her head through the curtain, "Oh, there you are!", she said, "that is a lovely suit." I curtly asked what other suits 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 floral two-piece which gave the appearance of an oversized napkin in a serving ring.

I struggled into a 2-piece leopard skin that covered my stomach with ragged frills and I looked 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-piece 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 . . . 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. I figured at least I had something I could wear and that the hours of search had been productive.

Life is not fair -- when I got home, I found a label, which 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 happen to be there too .. I'll be the person in cut off jeans and a t-shirt........... 

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