I needed a bathing suit. When I learned that I was to become a grandmother, I made my mind up that I was not going to be the type who sat on the side of the pool with every inch of skin covered, refusing to get in the pool to play. So, heading to Florida anticipating 10 days with my family, I needed a bathing suit. I already had one bathing suit. It is the only one, as an adult, that I have ever really liked. Well, there was that pink one that had a skirt and a blouson top that I really liked. It fit my friend, Kathy's, definition of a "Christian mother's bathing suit." It had so much fabric in it that swimming was difficult, but it was modest and perfect for lying by the pool, drinking Coke and eating chips. It lost some of its luster the day an obviously pregnant lady asked if I was wearing that suit to cover up baby weight like she was. I replied with a tinge of snark, "why, yes, yes, I am. My baby is eight," followed by a do-you-have-any-more questions look on my face. Perhaps, I could have been more gracious, but that was the best I could muster at the moment.
Bathing suits have always been a trial to me. I never enjoyed wearing a bikini or even a more modest two-piece. As a teenager, weighing about 110 pounds, I tried to keep myself covered as much as possible, you know to hide the fat....oh, brother. I wish I was as fat as I was when I first thought I was fat. Truly, it was less that and more that I was raised by a mother who exhibited tasteful modesty and a father who let me know that real men appreciate that modesty. Modest bathing suits were hard to find. It was the 1960s with Woodstock, free-love and all that stuff and bathing suits reflected the times. My mom had my bathing suits made...ill-fitting bikinis with a cover-up attached. I rarely took the cover-up off, unless some teenage boy, finding himself to be hilariously entertaining, jerked it off in front of everybody. Who wouldn't want to date that guy?
I find myself somewhat dismayed and somewhat awestruck by the very heavy, bikini-clad older women walking down the beach here. The bottom of their suits are almost entirely obscured by a sagging belly flap with the tops doing a mediocre job, at best, covering that which they have been assigned to cover. And, yet, part of me wishes I had a bit more of their confident lack of inhibition. It turns out that I have many more things at which I need to work so that strolling down the beach in a bikini with no embarrassment is not a high priority.
Back to my need for a bathing suit. One suit should suffice except for the fact that while in Sanibel, our pattern is to swim in the morning, go grab lunch, play on the beach, and rest before going back to the pool in the afternoon. Having one bathing suit leaves two unpleasant options - wear a wet bathing suit all day or put a cold, wet one back on in the afternoon. Heaven help me, I live such a life that I found buying a second bathing suit a necessity. Because of the cold and the crowds at the mall right after Christmas, I decided to shop for a bathing suit at my favorite store...Amazon! I perused the many options and found one I thought looked perfect. It was not expensive, it had a skirt, the top was modest, and it was black. I paid an extra $4.99 so I would receive it the day before we left. It arrived. I tried it on. It was far from perfect. How did I not notice that it was horizontally striped? Black and white horizontal stripes! I looked like a lumpy, college football official who put his shirt on sideways. It is never a good thing when the picture of a bathing suit on a hanger looks much better than the suit looks on a person. I still needed another suit.
Yesterday clouds rolled in over The Gulf so Mr. L and I decided to wander about Captiva. He asked if there was any place I wanted to go and I mentioned the store where I had bought the one suit I have and actually like. I was ready to take out a mortgage on our house to pay for any bathing suit I found that I could tolerate wearing in public. I found two, that I really like, and that were not obscenely expensive. Score! I was literally doing fist pumps in the dressing room. I am fairly certain that Sports Illustrated will not be calling me for their next swimsuit edition, but at least I can feel somewhat confident as I stroll out to the pool and remove my cover-up before slipping into the pool to enjoy great fun with my grandchildren.
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