shopping for bathing suits is the worst.
Shopping for bathing suits is the worst. When I was in my twenties, it was no big deal because I was flat enough to wear lycra without looking like a balloon stuffed with cottage cheese. These days I don’t fit into anything swim related, except goggles and a towel. And even that’s iffy.
So, I was online looking for something practical—one of those blankets you see on circus elephants—when I saw an ad for swimsuits on sale. I clicked and began searching through image after image of what I would not be fitting into this summer when I ran across this swimsuit:
I think it’s a swimsuit. Though, one could easily argue that it’s a tan line. Let’s say it’s a swimsuit. A seventy-dollar swimsuit that consists of less than one dollar’s worth of material. Let’s review some practical facts about this:
Fact: You can purchase an entire box of Band-Aids for one dollar. That’s $69 less than this swimsuit and about the same amount of coverage.
Fact: You can buy seven Snuggies for $70.
Fact: Band-Aids would also provide the same amount of coverage as this suit, but with a higher SPF.
Fact: Seven Snuggies would have an SPF of 700.
Fact: This swimsuit likely started its journey in the fabric remnant bin at Hobby Lobby.
Fact: The bracelets that model is wearing provide more coverage than her swimsuit. They also have a higher SPF.
This is one long piece of material strategically wrapped around this woman like a polyester python. Anyone who has had a baby can tell you that all we need to do is slap some leopard paint on our skin. Then wrap that post baby belly around for the same amount of coverage, with a much higher SPF.
Now, there are a lot of good reasons for buying a suit like this. In addition to swimming, sunbathing, or using it as a cloth headband, you can also use it as:
- Dental floss.
- A water balloon sling.
- A Moby Wrap.
Actually, I’m not sure I can think of a single serious reason to feel good about wearing something like this. As you can see, there’s not a lot of room for self-confidence. In fact, there isn’t even enough room for skin. It’s been many years since my top had that kind of buoyancy. If I wore this suit, it would only taunt both gravity and physics, which is a lot to ask a few pieces of thread.
The only way to make this suit fit me is to have it Photoshopped onto my body. If designers want to sell this suit to more than supermodel-type women or anyone appearing on The Bachelor, my suggestions would be to:
- Make the front photo look similar to the back photo. Actually, don’t because then it would be topless.
- Throw in a free bottle of sunscreen with every purchase, SPF 100.
- Put it on a more realistic person and let’s start sobering up these designers.
- Start selling it as a dust rag in the cleaning products aisle.
This summer I definitely won’t be wearing this—mostly because I have no idea how to put on. Also, I can get a Costco membership for about fifty bucks and buy 700 towels for $30: 100 percent SPF coverage. I just need some goggles and I’m all set.