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.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.