Bathing Suits |
"Come on out." |
"No way." |
"Come on. Just open the door so I can see." |
"Huh-uh." |
There is an audible sigh from the male standing outside the dressing room. The female inside swears softly and grunts several times. This is bathing suit season. |
Every year, women go on the hunt for the perfect bathing suit. It will cover the places they don't want seen, lift the places they don't want sagging, and camouflage their perceived flaws, flabby tummy, too large or too small top or bottom, too long or too short torso... The things a bathing suit is expected to do sometimes defy all rational thinking, but we continue to believe that these things are possible. |
I listen to the woman next to me grunt her way into and out of several suits, refusing her companion a view each time. She finally gives up and leaves. |
"The extra large didn't fit!" she says as she flings the door open. "Am I the largest woman you've seen? Am I?" |
I can visualize the fear in this woman's husband or boyfriend as she waits for the answer. He takes the safe way out and treats it as a rhetorical question. |
I stand in my own dressing room, facing a hook full of this season's possibilities. Perhaps I am simply getting older, but it seems that the styles are getting skimpier, covering less and less. And the styles that do cover look like my grandmother's girdle. |
"You doing all right in there?" the salesgirl asks with a light rap on the door. |
"Yeah," I say. |
"Let me know if you need another size!" she says cheerily. |
I sigh, knowing that today, the hunt will result in failure, and I will have to do this again. |
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