Bathing Suits vs. Middle Age

Bathing Suit 1920’s – Oh Baby!

Summer has a myriad of delights. Cold watermelon and soft-serve ice cream; walks on the beach and picnics in parks; hot summer nights with dinner on the porch; fans whirring above my head; sandals and bare feet; the list could go on forever.

For “Women of a Certain Age” one of the things that is not a delight is pulling out the bathing suit. As readers saw in my post “Affirmation in the Dressing Room” working through the process of normal clothes shopping is difficult. Putting myself in the position of wriggling into the lycra fabric of modern-day bathing suits, with someone overseeing the process via remote so I won’t steal the suit, could put me into a therapists office for some time.  And why would I want to steal a bathing suit that is making tears come down my cheeks as I dream of the body I think I once had…..

But turns out, there are a lot of us out there with the same struggle and so I give you today’s post as an offering of sorts. An offering to all of us who struggle with the inevitable agony of defeat that purchasing a bathing suit brings. It is not written by me but I will forever thank the “Middle-age woman, unknown!” 

The Bathing Suit (by a middle-age woman unknown)

When I was a child in the 1950s, 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 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 that 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 slingshot, which gives the added bonus that if you manage to actually lever yourself into one, you would be protected from shark attacks. 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 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 fitted all right, but unfortunately it only fitted 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 Playdoh 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, 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, and a floral two-piece that gave the appearance of an oversized napkin in a serving ring. 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.

I tried on a black number with a midriff and looked like a jellyfish in mourning.

I tried on a bright pink pair with such a high cut leg I thought I would have to wax my eyebrows to wear them.

Finally, I found a suit that fitted, it was 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 it home, I found a label that 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’m there too, I’ll be the one in cut-off jeans and a T-shirt!

Used with permission courtesy of T.McCracken

17 thoughts on “Bathing Suits vs. Middle Age

  1. I missed your original post of this and just caught the re-post via facebook…hmmmmm…I think I had just had a baby when you posted it. ;) I just laughed until I cried! I HATE bathing suits! I wear one so that I can swim with my children and for no other reason. Thanks for sharing again! :)

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    1. Haha! Me too! To be able to turn universal pain for women into universal laughter and joy means we are victorious indeed! Sooo glad you read this.

      Marilyn Gardner Sent from my iPhone

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  2. I was in tears laughing as I read this. My 40-something self truly thanks you for it. . . Have not laughed like THAT in some time!

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  3. OH, Marilyn! You and “Middle-aged Woman Unknown” truly had LOLing! Between “the body I think I once had” and missing boobs, oozing body parts, lumpy play-doh and mourning jellyfish, I was crying tears of understanding, while laughing.

    I also have purchased the two piece short-type bottom & blouson top, only mine wasn’t transparent when wet. It simply billowed around me like an oversized flower in the middle of the pool!

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  4. If only the swimsuit manufacturers would read it and pay attention! I just bought 2 , used mainly for the arthritis exercise at the Y pool. One was from a thrift shop for $2. The other from a Land’s End Inlet for 30 – It doesn’t look too bad and is fairly modest, but it’s like getting into the kind of corset my mother used to wear. The contortions I go through to get into it will surely amuse the locker room of women of similar age and shape! Ed wants you to rate your blogs – maybe some should be “for women only”.

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  5. Oh my goodness. Some of these posts should really be rated…. The only thing missing was the pictures… Why no pictures, Marilyn? :)

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