Well, today was certainly interesting. Hub was downtown at a meeting so I decided to go to the nearest Winners store to try on bathing suits. Why pay over $100 when you can get something fashionable for under $30? I was pleased to see two – count them – two racks of assorted swim-wear. Lots of tankinis and two-piece jobbies that I might have worn 30 years ago, but certainly not now. Of course the selection in the larger sizes was limited mainly to black, but I did unearth a navy blue model and was thrilled to find one in bright turquoise, my favourite colour.

From Bunky's Pickle website

From Bunky’s Pickle website

I raced off to the dressing room, took off my boots, my trousers, belt, jacket and turtleneck sweater thinking that I could have planned my choice of clothing better. In any case, I pulled on a black one with some nice ruching at the bodice and a cute little ruffle at the bottom of its overskirt. Well, let me tell you, dressing rooms are not the most ego-friendly places. The lighting is like old movie star dressing rooms – two long, zillion-watt bulbs on either side of a super-shiny mirror that I swear has been crafted to make everyone look bad.

When I turned to look at the fit and saw way too much of my winter-pale thighs exposed, I felt my heart drop. What looked like a cute ruffle on the hanger drooped at half mast over my butt, reminding me of that ripply plastic green garnish on salad bar selections. Ugh. I tore it off and picked up the brightly coloured one, thinking that it would cheer me up. I got my legs into it up to my knees and realized it would go no further, thinking to myself, but I’ve lost nine pounds, dammit. I kicked it off then looked at the label inside. It was a size 10! Some evil skinny heifer had put it onto a size XL hanger. That’s not the first time, either. I envisioned a band of thin, cackling young women going from rack to rack, exchanging teeny-tiny sized garments for items at the full-figured end of the racks. I gave up at that point and got dressed, thinking cruel thoughts about those stick-chicks.

But hell, today I did over 7,300 steps and climbed 20 flights of stairs. I’m proud of myself, even if I can’t find a bathing suit that doesn’t make me look like a matron. Maybe I’ll just sew some tucks into my droopy suits and wear them until the pool chemicals claim them.