It’s a Deathtrap

It’s a Deathtrap

It’s been a rough few days. Late last week I had a physical and I walked out of there with the trifecta of future appointments – mammogram, treadmill stress test and a colonoscopy. I hit 50 hard last month and apparently 50 hits back. I also got some bad news about my cholesterol which is high and has to be monitored. I come from a family which has lots of heart disease. I left the doctors office in a mood that can be described as “we’re all going to die”. Then I went home and took care of people because that’s what moms do. Over the weekend I distracted myself by shopping for swimsuits online.

Getting packages in the mail usually comes with some level of anticipation, unless it’s swimwear then it’s dread. It started out innocently enough, I was preparing for a family trip and decided to get some swimwear. Now I wasn’t entirely naive about the process, I despise putting on a bathing suit. I hate it so much that I have avoided it all together for the past three years. My family is about to embark on a once in a lifetime trip and I refuse to let vanity and insecurity sideline me. I need to get over myself and squeeze into something that resembles swimwear, perhaps from the Amish line.

I did what modern women do and went shopping online. Let’s be honest for a minute, is there a fresher hell than trying on swimsuits in a department store dressing room?  No there isn’t (OK side burner war, childhood diseases, man buns, poorly dressed baby goats, misogyny, racism and all the crime in the world for a moment) bathing suit shopping is awful and is made worse by florescent lights and the knowledge that some store security guard is watching you. No thanks, I’ll pay for shipping on returns if I have to in order to avoid being burned into Edna’s memory of most ridiculous customers.

I was cautiously optimistic when I began. I wasn’t opting for the Brazilian thong with a bandeau top (wireless). Those days are behind me (*sniff*sniff*) I went straight to modest yet modern swim skirts and tankini tops. I was pleasantly surprised when I found a swim skirt I like and it actually looked kind of cute. I felt cautiously optimistic, thinking my biggest challenge was behind me (wink) and I went to search for a top.

I found the top from a different company. A plain, yet seemingly well designed tankini top in black, should work fine with the aforementioned cute skirt. I took it out of the bag, it doesn’t resemble a 15th century torture device, so I decided to try it on. OMFG this thing is the stuff of nightmares. During my first attempt I was spun into some weird web of clothing denial. I thought I must have done something wrong, this can’t be right. It was only half on, yet it took the skills of a disjointed acrobat to wiggle my way out of there.

I checked the size, listened for encroaching family members and dove in for round two. OH FFS are they kidding me? No, flippin’ way. I was determined and soldiered through and managed to get this tankini from hell on my body over most of the right parts. Thank G-d it didn’t look good, if it did I may have been tempted to keep it beyond all logic.

Fear started to creep in. You know how it is when you’re watching a scary movie and you hear those first high pitched piano notes…something awful is about to happen and you go into high alert. Is it hiding in the drapes, crouched down near the sofa, OMG he’s behind me, isn’t he!!! And I realize I need to get out of this despicable garment without destroying it. Fantasies of shredding it Hulk style were replaced by the need to develop an exit strategy.

I looked at myself in the full length mirror, took a deep breath and determined the best course of action. Getting this top over “the girls” was particularly challenging. I’m a C-cup so we aren’t talking porn star breasts or anything unusual. Visions of me twisting my upper body to release the twins seemed like a bad idea. I wondered how it was that Harry Houdini could escape shackles in a water tank under duress and I struggled to get out of a bathing suit. I opted for the top down method. I released myself from the straps and rolled it down to my waist and kept going until I was free. The entire task likely lasted under five minutes and felt like a lifetime. The search continues…


18 responses »

  1. I feel your pain Bryce! I have a – shall we say – *workable* figure so I probably shouldn’t hate it as much as I do… but bathing suits, new jeans and new gym clothes are the bane of my existence. Purchasing any one of these is an all-day, solo event that I approach with very low expectations. This year, I had the good fortune of finding a top at Title Nine, and the bottoms at Target. Thank God for “separates”!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. There is nothing worse than the moment where you realize that you must might be stuck in that mess of straps and polyester. It always reminds me of Carrie Fisher, “I want it reported that I drowned in moonlight, strangled by my own bra.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Pingback: My Week 199: I’m Not The Only One – mydangblog

  4. Here’s a fun fact to add to your tragically funny, or funnily tragic, experience: right before Houdini would take a shackled dive into the deeps his wife, overcome with emotion, would rush to give him a kiss and slip him the key along with the tongue. And yet she doesn’t get half the credit she deserves.
    Anyway, the lesson here might be that a good spouse will help you out of an entanglement, and a great spouse will keep quiet about it.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I’m so glad to have found your blog through mydangblog who I delight, and heartily laugh to every week! I can relate and have not donned a swimsuit in ten years at least. But I will write a post now that you both have inspired me to do so and let it all hang out. (Just a warning) 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I bought a tankini top, and bottom, through Land’s End. And it was excellent quality, and cute. But dear lord! I do not love underwires in my daily life and getting that sucker on was a douzy! After my wrestling match I dove into the pool, and my top went to my navel.

    Still, after all these years I have yet to learn that some swimsuits are for swimming and some are for beach bunny-ing!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.