Very few of us can pull off even a full-piece like Pamela Anderson.
And ladies, unfortunately, it’s getting closer to that time of year.
As the temperatures finally begins to rise and the Uggs and winter coats are discarded, (along with those binge-eating excuses of ‘because it’s cold’), it’s almost time to wear swimmers in public again.
Which involves planning. There’s hair to remove, fake tan to apply, muffin tops to tame and sagging breasts to lift.
I’ve been getting prepared, surreptitiously, for a while now. The congealed bottle of fake tan came out of the cupboard a few weeks ago, and I have the tell-tale brown smears all over the back of my hands and on my ankles to prove it. I’ve been down to the gym at least once this month and actually reached level 2 on the cross trainer – which is easy as, if I can pause to catch my breath each minute. I’ve even sat in the bath and contemplated the future for my winter bush; then decided it was way too much effort and decided I can rock the burkini instead this year.
I went through the annual public degradation of shopping for ‘swimmers’ last Sunday. I’m not sure what I was setting out to achieve other than an even lower self-esteem about my body. It was probably that cheeky glass of wine at lunchtime that gave me the Dutch courage to try and squeeze my lard into numerous itsy-bitsy swim suits that were obviously all designed for Barbie Dolls, and that I never had a chance in hell of fitting into.
Or it might have been because in ten days time I will be exposing my white whale of a middle-aged body to the beach in Hamilton Island, and if I don’t find something new, very soon, I’ll be stunning the beach with my old Speedo cossie, that bags around my flat ass and whose white detailing is now a fugly shade of yellow.
I’ve never been able to pull off the beach-babe look. It’s hard to find a cossie that you look good sunbathing in, as well as being able to do lengths in too. And as you know, I’m a VERY serious athlete. I do own one semi-flattering full-piece that makes my boobs look fabulous when I’m posing on the sand, but the minute it gets wet, the lycra becomes super-baggy and my breasts start to drag along the pool floor.
Sizing is complicated when it comes to swimmers, and that puts me in a bad mood from the start. Where I can usually squeeze myself into a generous size 12 in other clothes, I’m always a size 14 in swimmers.
And don’t get me started on the boob issues. It’s difficult to squeeze anything over an A cup into flattering swimmers and the full-pieces that are designed for middle-aged women, with great big pudding bowls for your boobs, make me feel like I’m trussed up like a turkey.
Then there’s where the costume finishes around your bush. I refuse to get a Brazilian but 90% of costumes make it compulsory unless you’re happy to sport the Eastern European look. And Kurt would probably have something to say about that….VERY LOUDLY…on the beach.
If you’ve got a spare $200 + to splash out on a Miracle suit or something similar, that sucks winter’s cake and wine in so you can’t breathe, you’re laughing, but I can’t justify spending such a ridiculous amount of money on a piece of fabric that’s no bigger than a cushion cover. Frankly, I’d prefer to invest in a new cushion cover.
So I suppose, it’s back to the wide-brimmed hat and sequinned kaftan again this year.
How do you pull off the beach babe look?