Thursday, December 13, 2007

There were no miracles....

Melinda and I went to Nordstrom today
to buy bathing suits. Steeled ourselves.
The best-selling item for the post-teen, post-size-zero,
post-bikini mature women (when did I
get to be mature, anyway?) is called the Miracle Suit.
Huh. The only miracle that I witnessed
was when I actually managed to squeeze my torso
into one of those elastic compression devices.
The problem with frontal steel-belting is that excess body mass
is forced out the back of the garment.
Kind of like sausage bursting from its casing.
Not at all pretty! Whilst undergoing
this self-imposed torture in the dressing room,
Melinda yelled out to me: "Do you think they
have any burka bathing suits?!"
We each did manage to leave with a new swimming costume.
M. opted not to get the red suit. I opted for a matching
black skirt/cover-up. (Although what exactly it's supposed
to be covering up I can't for the life of me figure out.
Fully costumed, there is still altogether way too much
of me without any covering whatsoever.)
Sigh. O youth forever lost.


  1. And we survived. In fact, it may very well have been one of those life-transitions in which we accept and make the best of the limits of our current phase.
    Warrior women fighting off the demons of self hatred, emerging (if not proud of our various bulges & bursts) at least willing to go out with them. Chins up, smiles on our faces, and years of heroic journeys to support our proud posture, yes? Oh YES!

  2. Well....I don't know about the years of heroic journeys, but I am quite certain of years of a lot of damn good eating to support, as you put it, our "proud posture." Bursts indeed!