Judith,
Thanks, but darn choked on my coffee trying not to laugh out loud
hysterically at the office!!
Am going to forward this to my wife at her office.
Y'know, you gals got it worse, but it's also not easy for us guys who don't
fit the young/skinny mold.
Fortunately, they came out with "board shorts" which cover a multitude of
sins...
One big guy, one pair of dark-colored, full-cut board shorts, and Voila! I
don't look like a neon sausage!!
Ben
-----Original Message-----
From: Judith Taylor [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]]
Sent: Monday, May 21, 2001 9:26 PM
To: CF-Community
Subject: For us 'older' women ;o)
This came through on my lace-chat list...and I just had to share the
laughter. :o)
~=The Other Judith=~
I have just been through the annual pilgrimage of torture and
humiliation known as buying a bathing suit. When I was a child in the
1950's, the bathing suit for a woman with a mature figure 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 pre-pubescent 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 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 give 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 bosom 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 bosom spread across her chest like a speed hump. I realigned
my speed hump 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 pre-pubescent sales girl popped head
through the curtains, "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 which gave the appearance of an
oversized napkin in a serviette 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 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 fit...a two-piece
affair with 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. And, summer is sooooo close!!!
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
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