Let me tell you a story about a girl, a pool and a Miracle Swimsuit. Several years ago I traveled to Kauai for a wonderful Hawaiian holiday. In preparation for the trip I lost what I considered to be a fair amount of weight. I was feeling thinner, sassier and a little full of myself.
To celebrate this feat and, honestly, to accentuate my newly found curves, I grabbed the best friend and went . . . swim suit shopping. Yes, the shopping event that is despised by any woman over the size of 0. There is not a dressing room in the world that benefits this occasion in any way. The room is too small, making it hard to tug and pull. The lighting is atrocious making one look like a sick, beached walrus. Let’s face, the whole experience is frightening because you are now face to face with all of your imperfections and trying to slam them into a small amount of spandex. But, women persevere in our quest to be cute on the beach and endure this high form of self humiliation. I was one of those women.
While thumbing through all the selections available to me, I happened upon a number with the name of Miracle Suite. The tag said it would hold me in all the right places, giving my curves a much needed boost and smoothing out so many areas. Sweet, I thought. It will make my weight loss look even more so and give me that hour glass figure I was hoping to have.
As I hugged this Miracle Suite to me and grabbed the best friend, I entered the portal of truth, the dressing room. It was then I learned when the tag said it would hold me in and boost me up, what it really meant was the suit would slam my outside fat into my inner organs. It would then lift and shape my breasts to Marilyn Monroe proportions, basically becoming a beautiful, barely stretchy straight jacket.
The donning of this suit was a tad difficult as I had to tuck myself into it. (I felt like the prey a Python was trying to swallow). But, the end result was amazing. Curvy, taut and smooth in all the right places. I tugged it back off and bought it in a happy frenzy. Swim suit conquered, now onto the Islands.
Let’s skip forward to the first day at our beautiful condo where there resided a lagoon pool. Just so you know, I love a lagoon pool. This one came with a lazy river, twin slides and a waterfall one could swim under and rest. My blue heaven. In breathless anticipation I skipped out past the lanai dragging the best friend with me. I stripped off the swim suit cover-up and entered the most heavenly water and frolicked in the lagoon to my heart’s content.
The best friend swam a while but exited to a chaise lounge with a cocktail. I eventually got out to join her but decided before I became situated for an afternoons rest, I would frequent the restroom. In I went and proceeded with the task at hand. I was ready to pull up this one piece suite when I then realized all was not heaven inside the potty hut. I was wet, the suit was wet, and the stall was very small. I inched, tugged and pulled that swim suit north only getting as far as my knees. Meanwhile I was getting frustrated, hot and claustrophobic in the small space. I didn’t have room to really flex myself into said suit, so I peeked out to the main bathroom area looking to see if anyone was there. Empty. I edged myself out into the open and continued inching, tugging, pulling and stuffing myself into that suit. It was slow going. I tried inching it past my knees, up to the thighs hoping to at least get it to my waist.
If anyone had entered the hut at this point they would have witnessed a wet, slightly frantic red head with her leg up on the counter top trying to get a wet swim suit up and over her ample butt. You see, it’s not as easy as one might think to achieve proper placement of the suit into all the lady curves. One might get one side up but not the other and visa versa. I was getting hotter and sweatier, which didn’t help with the slip factor. It was at this point I thought I might have to wrap my towel around my half naked self and creep back to the room. I also thought, Miracle, my ass. Are they kidding me? A swim suit is inherently meant to get wet. Do they not expect a woman to pee?
More tugging and stuffing ensued and the suit finally inched slowly but surely up my torso, headed for it’s proper place. Now, there is a phenomenon I believe happens when a wet, hot, sweaty, stressed out body is put back into the Miracle Suit. This phenom is never mentioned on the tags or in any Google site. I call it the skin-on-a-wiener effect. It seems that when the aforementioned is stuffed back into the wet swim suit it starts to expand, filling up any spare space that might have existed. It more than fills up, it starts to strain at the seams, to where one feels like one is inside the body of the aforementioned Python. This was happening to me and I started to panic. All alone, claustrophobic and sweating even more.
That day I learned a valuable lesson that has kept me sane throughout the years; how to calm myself down. I alternatively practiced calming thoughts, deep breathing and even talking to myself and of course I prayed. It was when I thought of peeling this thing back off that I decided to buck up and get on with life.
I slid into my chaise lounge, took a sip of iced tea and looked over at the best friend. She looked back and said, “What took you so long?”
magicalmess 