LOL...TO FUNNY

(I was not a child of the 50's..........just so you know...lol)



When I was a child in the 1950s the bathing suit for themature figure was boned, trussed and reinforced, not somuch sewn as engineered. They were built to hold back and uplift and they did a good job. Today's stretch fabricsare designed for the prepubescent girl with a figure carvedfrom a potato chip.

The mature woman has a choice -- she can either go up frontto the maternity department and try on a floral suit with askirt, coming away looking like a hippopotamus who escaped from Disney's Fantasia or she can wander around everyrun-of-the-mill department store trying to make a sensible choice from what amounts to a designer range of fluorescentrubber bands.

What choice did I have? I wandered around, made my sensible choice and entered the chamber of horrors known as thefitting room. The first thing I noticed was the extraordinary tensile strength of the stretch material. The lycra used in bathing costumes was developed, I believe, byNASA to launch small rockets from a slingshot, which givesthe added bonus that if you manage to actually lower yourself into one, you are protected from shark attacks –as any shark taking a swipe at your passing midriff would immediately suffer whiplash.

I fought my way into the bathing suit, but as I twanged the shoulder strap in place, I gasped in horror -- my boobs had disappeared! Eventually, I found one boob cowering under myleft armpit. It took a while to find the other. At last I located it flattened beside my seventh rib. The problem is that modern bathing suits have no bra cups.The mature woman is meant to wear her boobs spread acrossher chest like a speed bump. I realigned my speed bump and lurched toward the mirror to take a full view assessment.

The bathing suit fit all right, but unfortunately it onlyf it those bits of me willing to stay inside it. The rest ofme oozed out rebelliously from top, bottom, and sides. I looked like a lump of play dough wearing undersized clingwrap. As I tried to work out where all those extra bits hadcome from, the prepubescent sales girl popped her headthrough the curtain, 'Oh, there you are,' she said,admiring the bathing suit. I replied that I wasn't so sure and asked what else she had to show me.

I tried on a cream crinkled one that made me look like a lump of maskingtape, and a floral two piece which gave the appearance of an oversized napkin in a serving ring. I struggled into a pair of leopard skin bathers with ragged frills and came out looking like Tarzan's Jane, pregnant with triplets and having a rough day. I tried on a black number with a midriff and looked like a jellyfish in mourning. I tried on a bright pink model with such a high cut leg, I thought I would have to wax my eyebrows to wear them. Finally, I found a suit that fit ... a two-piece affairwith a shorts style bottom and a loose blouse-type top. It was cheap, comfortable, and bulge-friendly, so I bought it.

My ridiculous search had a successful outcome, I figured.When I got home, I found a label which read –'Material might become transparent in water.' So, if you happen to be on the beach or near any other body of water this year and I'm there too, I'll be the one in cut off jeans and a T-shirt!


You'd better be laughing or rolling on the floor by this time.


'Life isn't about how to survive the storm, but howto dance in the rain.'