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Bathing suits after 50

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  • Bathing suits after 50

    I don't know if the attachment worked. I found this years ago. I changed some of the language as it referred to suits as costumes.

    I re submitted the story. Don't try to open the attachment. The thread is four submissions below.
    Last edited by ICNDonna; 03-18-2007, 02:45 AM. Reason: I removed the attachment so nobody would accidentally open it.

  • #2
    it wanted me to down load it, after just reformatting from a backdoor.haxdoor virus, I will pass lol..
    'The will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.'


    • #3
      I'm sorry. I guess because I downloaded it, it didn't do that to me when I clicked it. Sorry. It is really rather funny.


      • #4
        how about it you added it as a photo into photobucket. I would love to see it.
        'The will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.'


        • #5
          A Mature perspective on bathing suits...

          It's not a picture, I'll try another way.
          From the mature perspective…

          I’ve just been through the annual pilgrimage of torture and humiliation known as buying a bathing suit. When I was a child in the 1950’s, the bathing suit for a woman of with a mature figure was designed for a woman with a mature figure – boned, trussed and reinforced, not so much sewn as engineered. They were built to hold back and uplift and they did a real good job.

          Today’s stretch fabrics are designed for the prepubescent girl with a figure chipped from marble. The mature woman has a choice – she can either front up at the maternity department and try on a floral suit with a skirt, coming away looking like a hippopotamus escaped from Disney’s Fantasia – or she can wander around every run-of-the-mill department store trying to make a sensible choice from what amounts to a designer range of fluoro rubber bands.

          What choice did I have? I wandered around, made my sensible choice and entered the chamber of horrors known as the fitting room. The first thing I noticed was the extraordinary tensile strength of the stretch material. They Lycra used in bathing suits was developed, I believe, by NASA to launch small rockets from a slingshot, which give the added bonus that if you manage to actually lever yourself into one, you are protected from shark attacks. The reason for this is that a 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 into place, I gasped in horror – my bosom had disappeared. Eventually I found one bosom cowering under my left armpit. It took a while to find the other one. 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 bosom spread across her chest like a speed bump.

          I re-aligned my speed bump and lurched toward to mirror to take a full-view assessment. The bathing suit fitted all right, but unfortunately, it only fit those bits of me willing to stay inside it. The rest of me oozed out rebelliously from top, bottom and sides. I looked like a lump of play dough wearing undersized cling wrap.

          As I tried to work out where all those extra bits had come from, the prepubescent sales clerk popped her head through the curtains. “Oh, they are YOU! she said admiring the suits. I replied 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 limp of masking tape, and a floral two-piece which gave the appearance of an oversized napkin in napkin ring. I struggled into a pair of leopard skin suits with a ragged frill and came out looking like Tarzan’s Jane on a bad day. I tried a black number with a midriff and looked like a jellyfish in mourning. I tried on a bright pink pair 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 affair with shorts-style bottoms and a halter-top. It was cheap, comfortable and bulge-friendly, so I bought it.

          When I got home, I read the label which said, “Material may become transparent in water”; but I’m determined to wear it anyway. I just have to learn to breaststroke in the sand.


          • #6
            omg mags this was so funny. I don't think I have laughed so hard at nine in the morning.. thanks for such a great well needed laugh..
            'The will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.'


            • #7
              Funny --- but soooooo true! Last spring I tried on a suit that actually looked pretty good, considering my flab --- the front was very flattering and had a single diagonal stripe that took pounds away from my appearance. Then I looked in the mirror at the back! There was no back! It was cut lower than a bikini in the back.

              I need a new one for this year and really dread the search!

              Stay safe

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              • #8
                I have laughed at this over and over. It is fun to share.


                • #9
                  I found a cute one-piece that doesn't look half bad, and I'm careful to wash it every time I use it - I'm trying to keep the chlorine destruction to a minimum so I can wear it longer.