Bathing Suits for the Aging Female


I am a good swimmer.  In the water I am totally relaxed, not fighting my body, moving in sync with the buoyancy.  It offers an amazing feeling of freedom and tranquility. 
            Earlier this week, while exploring Australian waterfalls, Tom and I got to one that had a small swimming beach bordering the plunge pool.  I swam through the cascade on the far side of the pool, sat on the rocks under the waterfall and then swam back out again.  Tom was taking pictures the whole time.  Later than night we were looking at the pics on his computer and I was delighted with the sight of me in the water.  Head down, arms reaching in smooth strokes, I looked as good as I ever did.  I felt great, but fate was setting me up for a fall.  The next picture showed me coming out of the water.   There I was, a 67 year old woman: saggy, baggy, covered in cellulite, and wearing an equally old swimsuit. 
            My mood soured instantly, but I have a fall back position.  In all things sport, when I don’t like the results I blame the equipment.  I needed a new swim suit.  The next day I was off to the stores.  People, I went as a lamb to the slaughter.   
The first thing the saleswoman offered me was something called a, “Miracle” suit.  As far as I can tell, these things are made of Teflon coated, bullet proof lycra.  Infuse them with iron and they could hold up the Golden Gate Bridge.  The saleswoman said, it would give me an hourglass shape.  Off to the dressing room with that one—and that is where things got dicey.  Trying to get it on was a series of pulls, tugs, hops, grunts and desperate wedge maneuvers that soon had me sweating and breathless.  The sweat did not help! 
Then, with a sudden snaaaaaap, the last strap sealed itself to my shoulder.  The parts covered in the suit were constricted—even immobile.  The parts not covered were squeezing out the ends of the suit like exuded play dough.  That got me worried.  What was happening to all that flesh now squeezed inside the suit?  Where had it gone?  What was it doing?  When things compress they heat up.  When gasses heat they expand.  Was some part of me reaching a critical mass?  I envisioned some internal meter with its needle creeping up toward the red zone.  Stand back, she’s going to blow!
I had to get that suit off!  NOW!!!!  What followed was a frantic, exhausting and desperate effort.  No anaconda ever worded harder to shed his skin.  The saleswoman asked twice if I needed help.  Help?  I needed deliverance!
Five non-miracle suits later I found one that fit, looked nice and, if it didn’t help my ego, at least it didn’t do it any harm, either.  It also gave me a chance to observe all the young women searching for the perfect bikini for their perfect bodies.
I had a good run at bikinis back in the day, and I wish I had the body I did at 22, but I don’t want to be the person I was at 22.  I am a better person now, in every way except physically. 
You can’t have it all.  At least you can’t have it all at the same time.  Yes, I wish I were young, trim and attractive, but if I can’t, I’ll be old, fit and just a little bit wicked.  Now there is a real miracle suit. 
Love the person you are and keep the faith.

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