Swimsuit: Why Do You Forsake Me?

Bluffton Today column
April 13, 2011

I know no misery greater than attempting to find the perfect swimsuit.

Public speaking – pfff, easy. Dentist’s chair – surely you jest. Realizing I’ve sent an email to the wrong person, whilst bitching about said person – eh, I’ll bounce back. But swimsuit shopping - oh the horror!

Oddly, I don’t mind wearing the bathing suit. It is the journey toward the perfect swimsuit that makes my heart palpitate.

As I throw open the closet this year – having lost some inches of late – I shudder at the thought of having to start from scratch. Yes, I’m smaller. Yes, I’m healthier. But heck, one day of bathing suit shopping will likely set my mental health back years. (And, I’ve worked so hard to become sane, despite myself.)

But alas, successive 80 degree weekends demand a bathing suit, so in I go.

How the heck did I accumulate this many bathing suits? I have more than a dozen tops, bottoms, and one-pieces. I’m a third of the way through this dismal “fashion” show and the only thought running through my head is - who in the hell designed this house? There is no central air vent in my walk-in closet, the master bath seems to get hotter with each tug, and I don’t want to expose my lovely bedroom to this torturous ritual. As I sweat and struggle into suit number four, I silently curse this primal need to actually care about how I look.

Nylon and Lycra are not the airiest of fabrics and of course their sole purpose is to suck-in some trouble spots, so I might as well be trying to jump into a sausage casing, all the while overheating in this darn bathroom, in essence rendering this task a 7.5 on the difficulty scale.

Swimsuit! Why do you forsake me?

Now I’m a dozen pieces in and my favorite find is the black bottoms with the cute tie-string-sides. Front view, adorable. Back view, not so much. Apparently my weeks of boot camp have shrunk my bottom, because I look like I could add a diaper and still not fill out the butt. (Note to self: buy adult diapers just in case this doesn’t work out.)

The top-tier-search goes no better. I just can’t get the support I am looking for, if you know what I mean. Perhaps wearing the same suits for two years has finally stretched the chests beyond their means. Ironically, even though the bathing suits are too large, I remain drenched in my own sweat and I struggle to remove this last once piece.

This means just one thing. I need to shop for a few new suits.

I’ve already ruled out going to an actual store. I mean the thought of standing in the harsh light (of self-disgust), with hip-widening mirrors at each angle, and the size four skinny chick calling out for a size two from three dressing rooms down is less than appealing.

Add to this the fact that I would actually like to see what the bathing suit will look like without my underwear on underneath. And, OCD Courtney may also have a slight aversion to the little peel and stick crotch protectors. I mean paper being so sanitary and all. (I just threw up in my mouth a little bit…)

So, online shopping it is, but I already know how this is going to end. I have no idea what actual size to buy (I know it ain’t two or four -- ok, ok, or six.), so I will order multiple sizes, pay for expedited shipping (because I just can’t wait for round two of the heat box fiasco), and go through the exact same scenario that I described above. I will find one suit that I like. Then I will have to pay to ship back those that didn’t make the cut. Worth every penny, if it means avoiding a fitting room.

Despite my trepidation and ignoring the impending shipping costs, I began the online search. Sadly my “go to” suits from my friends at Lands End appear to have forgotten the better endowed this season. Where is the support? How about a little underwire for the girls?

With a heavy heart, I must continue the search. Sadly, I am seven websites in and I’ve got nada. I’m losing patience and time. There has got to be a nude beach around here somewhere…