Thank God for Lycra

If you’re female and you enjoy shopping for a swim suit, raise your hand.

Yeah, I thought so.

I think the only time in my life when the prospect of finding a new swim suit was even marginally appealing was in second grade when I got to choose one for myself for the first time. It was a bright neon green two-piece decorated with boldly colored fruits, like grapes and bananas and oranges. My mom liked it because I was easy to find at the public pool near Grandma’s house. I liked it because the green matched the color of my favorite Green Apple Jolly Rancher stick they sold at the pool’s snack bar.

I remember a bit of pre-teen trauma when my best friend and I decided we wanted matching swim suits. We eventually found one we equally disliked and poorly carried off. Thankfully, we were at that age where we outgrew the suits well before we outgrew the friendship.

I had a bikini stage in high school, when I was consumed with getting tan. I was more concerned with tan lines than modesty. Looking back, I’m grateful I did most of my sun worshiping in the privacy of our fenced patio. I suspect my dad is, too.

As an adult, I switched to one-piece suits. They were more modest and more likely to fit. At the time, bikinis were sold as sets -- no mixing and matching allowed -- and my body was changing into one where the top and bottom were not cooperating to be the same arbitrary fashion size. The one-piece suits worked great until my back became an issue.

A very cruel reality of having a very cranky back is that it is exceedingly painful to get out of a wet one-piece swimming suit. Getting it on when it is dry is doable. Getting it off when it is wet produces tears. And so now, horrifyingly, I am destined to a lifetime of two-piece swim suits regardless of my age, shape, confidence, or deep deep desire otherwise. Yay me.

I thought I had found a doable two-piece last year for my snorkeling foray in Mexico. I quite liked my suit until I later saw photos of that day. Gravity, she is an undeniable force. Why don’t they make bikini tops in much the same way they construct bras? If lift and separation and support and coverage are important under your clothes, wouldn’t they be even more so when they ARE your clothes?

And so with trepidation and low expectations and regret that I don’t own a flask, I went shopping last week for a new swim suit in preparation for an upcoming trip to a sunny, watery locale. I will say, the low expectations were a key to my success. I returned home with three pieces (two tops and one bottom) and my self-esteem mostly intact. It took work, though.

Knowing I could spend hours and days and tears trying to find the perfect suit in malls in two states, I decided to limit myself to one store, one stop. I would simply find something that was acceptable. I can’t tie a sarong and my hair is too short to attractively sport tropical flowers behind my ear. So with THAT goal off the table, the world of possibilities was much bigger…and more realistic.

It only took 28 pieces, one Vicodin, and approximately 3 hours to decide on two tankini tops (God bless the woman who came up with that concept) and one skirty bottom. I pawed through the suits aimed at addressing particular body issues. Apparently Kohl’s thinks most women in my area either want to enhance their busts or flatten their tummies (and yes, the tags said “tummy” – good grief). These are not my issues. My issues didn’t have a rack. However, I was pleased to find the skirt bottoms. Yet another ingenious swimwear invention undoubtedly conceptualized by a “mature” woman.

On my way to the register, I impulsively added some new flip-flops to my stash. (I knew them as thongs when I was a kid. You make that mistake just once.) As I stood in line, I could feel the woman behind me sizing up my bounty.

“You sure are optimistic,” she said with a smile.

With the prior three hours of carefully controlled agony raw on the surface, I chose to decide she was referring to the weather and not my ability to confidently wear my purchases in public.

“Oh, yes, I’m very optimistic. I’m going to a sunny place for vacation.”

Post-snorkel photos may or may not be included.