Summer's Little Shop of Horrors

With each step you take, your heart thumps against your rib cage. Fear and dread knot together at the back of your throat. Your legs start to wobble, yet you must forge ahead. What awaits behind the next turn is so horrifying, it chills you to the core. You swallow hard, exhale and sigh. You've reached the Swimsuit Department, and it is not for the weak.

To the left, there are racks and racks of string bikinis. Pass. On your right, skirted one-pieces even your grandmother would find matronly. No thank you. Continue onward, searching for the section with swimsuits befitting a woman such as yourself...somewhere between I'm No Longer 29 and I Survived the Stock Market Crash of 29.

Keep walking. Walk some more. It must be here somewhere. Surely, you're almost there. You're...wait a minute, how did you wind up near the cosmetic counters? What happened to the swimsuit section for people who aren't 20, but aren't 90 yet either?

Oh, that's right...there ISN'T one.

Yet you must persevere because the remaining swimsuits you own have stretched out in some areas and shrunk in others. Once beloved, they're no longer flattering. You're unsure how this happened as it couldn't be your own body has changed. Or gained any weight. Or redistributed weight you already had just because you've gotten a little bit older and gravity, she is mean and ornery. Whatever the reason, you need the maximum lift and support power only virgin spandex can provide.

Vow not to leave the store without at least one new swimsuit (lest you have to go through this experience again....it's the only thing worse than shopping for jeans).

Pilfer through rack after rack of tangled straps. There's a lot of black, and with good reason.  You're rather sick of black though. You crave a floral, a print, something different, something modern, something that doesn't make you look like a beached balloon animal.

Spy a beautiful tankini halter top, but darn it, the coordinating bottoms have "SEXY" written across the behind. You love comedy, but not when it would cause people to laugh at you instead of with you. Unfortunately, most designers make it impossible for you to mix and match the top of one swimsuit with the bottom from another.

Just as you're about to resign yourself to searching out swimsuits online or in catalogs (again), you find some at least worth trying. Select duplicates in various sizes since manufacturers can't seem to agree on universal measurements. 

This brings you to the most horrifying part of the swimsuit shopping experience: Not only will you have to see how bad they look, you'll have to see it in a 3 X 3 cubicle with the worst possible lighting. 

Search for a fitting room that doesn't already have 400 rejected swimsuits covering the bench and obscuring all hanger hooks inside. When that doesn't exist, clear a hook by shoving the preexisting stack of discarded suits into the room next to you. Hang yours with your favorite choice in the back to try on last....because if that doesn't fit, you will immediately lose all willpower to continue this horror show:

ACT 1:  The floral that's supposed to say Exotic Island Woman Sipping Mai Tai

YOU LOOK LIKE:  A loaf of bread wrapped in a tablecloth & cinched with twist-ties

HORROR MOVIE EQUIVALENT:  Psycho

ACT 4:  A soft green sure to flatter

YOU LOOK LIKE:  a rubber-banded tennis ball

HORROR MOVIE EQUIVALENT:  The Thing

ACT 7:  Cute polka-dot tankini
YOU LOOK LIKE:  a wrinkled 6 year-old
HORROR MOVIE EQUIVALENT:  Child's Play

ACT 12:  Basic black classic

YOU LOOK LIKE:  Every other female in an ill-fitted bathing suit at the pool

HORROR MOVIE EQUIVALENT:   A Nightmare on Elm Street

ACT 16:  Fun mid-century modern print

YOU LOOK LIKE:  An older, frumpier Jan Brady

HORROR MOVIE EQUIVALENT:  Showgirls (Okay, technically not a horror movie, but the fact this sorry Elizabeth Berkley flick was ever released is positively terrifying).

Everything you want held in? Squeezed and spilling out. Anything you might want to accentuate? Flattened and obscured. All that you need lifted and supported? Epic fail. There's too much fabric in all the wrong places, and then not enough fabric where there ought to be some.

Finally, you're down to one last suit. As you stretch it over all that sags on your person, a miracle occurs. It fits! It's not too young for you, nor too old....Why, you can even exhale without enduring physical pain or seeing visual pouch!  

Search for the label. You have to learn who the designer of such a fabulous garment is. She must truly understand women's body shapes. She must toil night and day to perfect the proper proportions. 

She must be crazy if she thinks you're paying $200 for a swimsuit.

Go home and search through the mail for the latest swimsuit catalog. Too bad it's already June, so they're all Christmas catalogs instead.

Actual Time Spent Swimsuit Shopping:  3 hours

Real Feel:  Do they even have clocks in Hell?

Chance You Will Return to Consider Purchasing the Pricey Suit:  95%

Chance Someone Else Already Bought the Last One in Your Size:  100%

TALK TO ME:  What do you hate most about swimsuits?