Swimsuit Shopping

Most of you may know where I’m about to go with this. However, for those of you who don’t experience: small breasts (not just average small, but two gingersnaps on a cookie sheet small), muffin tops and saddlebags, I’m about to enlighten you on what it’s like to try on swimsuits.

First off, I must inform you that the hodgepodge that I had to choose from wasn’t very promising. However knowing that most stores don’t carry suits for the spandex challenged, I went in with the frame of mind that my success might be very short lived. My focus was on a skirt/tank set. A skirt, so that my butt wouldn’t hang out and shock any innocent by-standers, and a tank so I could hide the permanent maze that I have etched onto my stomach (a.k.a. stretch marks).

The problem with having a small chest and a big butt (assuming your not 'J-Lo')? Nothing fits. I’m not being a pessimist; I’m only stating a fact. Because of my small bust and big butt, I’m forced to find tops that are teeny weenie around the chest and bottoms that are loose enough to let the cheeks breath. So here I am in the dressing room with 7 or 8 pieces to try on. I’m pretty excited because this might actually be the first time in 5 years that I could sport a bathing suit and feel “ok” about it. After a small struggle, I finally get the bottoms up and over my hips, pull the top down, adjust the skirt a bit, do a little turn to the 3-way mirror and phphphllllphfffbbb. Both the top and the skirt, in perfect sync, roll up like a window shade! The nice assistant, who gets paid to be up your ass, knocks on my door and says, “How is everything?” (Now what I want to say is) “Kiss off bitch, it doesn’t fit”. But I don’t. Instead I reply, “Uhm, I think I need a bigger size in both the top and bottom.” She says, “Let’s see.” What? “Let’s see”???!!! I’m not on parade lady just get me the damn Large! I politely decline and say “Well, I would show you, but then you would be traumatized and that wouldn’t be good for anyone, so could I just get a ‘Large’ in the blue and white Nike set?”

She kindly grabs the large, and throws it over the door. It was only by the grace of God that I was able to get the first suit off – I glanced in the mirror and carefully inspected all the red blotches that the evil suit left on me. I would like to not have signs of a struggle while trying on suits, that’s usually a dead give-away that something’s not right. I slipped on the large top – no problems at all, and then the large bottoms – again, smooth as butter. I did my little butt check in the mirror and realized that the back of the skirt was much higher than the front. Oh for shit’s sake – well I can deal with higher, just not tighter. I turned to the front to adjust my halter on the top and realized it was tied as tight as it would go. The stomach part fits perfect, the bottoms fit relatively ‘OK’, but somehow my chest got lost in the fabric. My desperation starts to set in. Can I not have a successful trip to the department store? Does everything have to be so damn difficult? I took the top off, stripped the bottoms off, threw on my clothes, adjusted my messy hair and flung open the door. There’s Susie Suck-Up standing there, “Well how’d you do?” I smiled my fake smile and said, “Ok, I think I’m going to pass on these, thanks for all of your help”. Without giving her an opportunity to say anything back, I woke my son up (yes he was sleeping in the dressing room) and we bailed.

On the way home I apologized to him for dragging him out to try on swimsuits. He says “That’s OK, why didn’t you like them? Were they too small for you?” I said, “Yeah honey they were. Mom doesn’t like a lot of her body showing and it is hard for me to find something where my bottom doesn’t hang out.” His intelligent comment back was “Is it because of your stretch marks?” (He knows this about me because I’ve broken the ‘Mom Law’ and have remarked about my flaws in front of him – he’s a sponge and according the Today show you shouldn't talk negatively about yourself around your children.) “Not really my stretch marks so much.” I lied. “But more just the fact that - well, yeah – my stretch marks and the fact that I’d like to be covered up a little more.” Again, fibbing. He says to me “Well, stretch marks are a part of life Mom, and you’re just going to have to get over it.”

How do you argue with that? I didn't. I just nodded and smiled and drove us home. I decided, I won’t be shopping for swimsuits until next year.