Thursday, October 29, 2009

Bravo Speedo



I’ve begun swimming again for exercise, for mental health. It’s hard to go when it’s cold outside. I hate the undressing, dressing, drying the hair, bundling up in a coat, stepping out into the parking lot. But I do like to move through water, feel my heart beating, hear the muffled pool noises, see the tiled blue line at the bottom of the pool, the iron rod of lane swimmers. I swim a mile: sixteen laps in a 50-meter pool.

I am still alive, I think. I am alive.

My bathing suit is an old black Speedo that is too big now and is pulling apart at the side seams. It’s the end of October, and I need a new bathing suit. I went shopping for one last week, and there were no swimsuits to be found. Winter coats had replaced them. So I went online to Lands End and looked through the dozens of suits they offer, all of them on sale now. I picked out a modest one-piece black and white number with a number 2-leg. I figure if you need a ruffle around the bottom of your swimming suit, you probably ought not to be wearing a swimming suit. Who is fooled by that ruffle?

The suit arrived today. It wasn’t quite what the online photo showed. It was black and white and GOLD. It was a modest gold line running through the pattern, but I don’t like gold threads running through my swimming suits. It smacks of tom-foolery, of Las Vegas costume. I’m sixty-seven. I’m no showgirl. Who is fooled by a gold thread?

I liked the rise of the number-2 leg. I liked the way it fit my behind.

I did not like the cleavage. I don’t like cleavage, period. Cleavage is pressed fat. Old women should not show cleavage. I tried pulling the suit up, but that didn’t work. The disgusting cleavage was still there.

I put the suit back in the box. I will return it. Actually, Tom will return it. There is something in my DNA that says “no return policy.”

Tonight, I looked up “Speedo for women” online. I want the “ultraback conservative" suit. It’s high in the front with the back cross straps. It’s a suit for serious swimmers. Thank you, Speedo.

Why didn’t I think to go there in the first place?

When I got out of the pool today, someone had taken my towel, and I had to dry myself with paper towels.

8 comments:

Katy said...

We may share a brain, Louise. I can't believe we both wrote about fitness yesterday, at about the same time.

I love young cleavage. I'll never know what it feels like to have it, though. Maybe I'll start a paper route, so I can start saving for some surgery.

I'm sending you a white towel with your name embroidered on it. That'll show 'em.

Katy said...

The "I love cleavage" part made me sound like a perve. I'm not, but I'm sure you got my gist.

Louise Plummer said...

Here's the thing, Katy, young cleavage turns into OLD crepy cleavage. Don't buy breasts. You'll be Barbie! I love androgyny.

Now whose the perve?

Jason Merrell said...

I love your description of swimming and your iron rod metaphor - as Joseph Campbell used to pronounce it, 'meh TA fir.'

dunnthat said...

I think my favorite line of all time is "Cleavage is pressed fat." All. Time.

I don't swim because of all the work you mentioned. Especially in the cold. I think it's the hair thing. I'm hardly high maintenance, but blow-drying and straightening my hair more than twice a week exhausts me :)

BBB said...

Well that's just rude that someone stole your towel. I think you should get a neon towel, maybe that would scare potential thieves away.

I've always had swimsuit boobage problems. Lycra just doesn't support the girls the way they need support.

flowildwer said...

LOL...Katy! How could you ever sound like a perve? And you ALWAYS go back to correct yourself!!! Even funnier!!!

Louise, I too agree! How rude to take someone's towel! I would have been so irritated!

I love your blog and reading it!!!

Mike said...

Speedo makes efficient swimming suits to reduce the hydrodynamic forces that would slow a competitive swimmer down. Cleavage would be one of those forces. Perhaps you could call it "C-force" (not to be confused with G-force). Fortunately that works to your advantage in finding the type of modest swim suit you were looking for.

At least you had paper towels to dry off with; otherwise you'd be stuck with toilet paper, and that would cling.