Swimsuit Follies

I suppose the biggest folly was wearing the old one as long as I did. I can't even tell you how old it was, having purchased it years (decades?) ago but not venturing into any appropriate bit of water in it. I dragged it out a couple years ago when I junked the previous one, predictably a victim of chlorine. This one was big enough to get into. Then a little bigger. Then much bigger, the fabric stretching out, wearing thin, and still somehow remaining almost decent.

I'd had to sew a tuck in the straps, taking up abut 3" so it would stay on me. The horizontal stretching wasn't much of a problem, until the last month or so, when the butt of it sagged way down. It had used that fabric to make horizontal ridges as its style.  Once it stopped clinging, it sagged. I stitched up a few inches in the crotch a couple of different times to keep it close enough to me to remain discrete, though by then the skirt had also stretched in all directions. As it was the skirt, width didn't matter much, unless I'd just gone from shallow water into deeper, making the skirt flare up around my waist. Since the hem now had gone from lower hip level to mid knee (!), it wasn't too embarrassing. Mostly. The fun (funny) part in all this came those rare times I hit the spa pool, sitting in front of one of the jets for a massage of my back or shoulders. The blasting water worked its way around the front until I had a "bust" jutting out and up, fighting for space with my chin!

I'd known last fall when I retired the suit for the season that it needed to be replaced. I'd already started looking. Actually, I started looking last spring. I used to shop for clothes in Walmart. Last year they decided they had a "better idea" than organizing clothing departments by sizes, but lumped all women's clothing of any particular type together. It works for, say, socks, or lingere.  Not so much for blouses, jackets, pants, or swimwear. No way I was going to hunt all the hell over half the store to find anything whatsoever I could wear.  Moreover the swimsuits I could locate were all designed for 15-year-old exhibitionists. Petite ones. The kind with long swaths of unblemished, unwrinkled skin, the kind you flaunt between ties, straps, and small strips of cloth that, if judged by price versus quantity, might have been made of precious metals.

I get mail order clothing catalogues. I've ordered from them for a few years now, and in the process learned that compared to retail stores, these brands run large. Mostly that's wonderful. Not so much in a swimsuit, however. What I had was already too large and baggy. That's why I needed to replace it. So I dithered for a long time about what style of suit to order, what size. I even went back to Walmart in hope they'd gotten sensible about how they stocked their clothing. LOL!  Joke's on me.

Finally the catalogue company had a half price swimsuit sale, start of this swim season. (Well, for "normal" people in mid spring. Here in AZ I could have chosen to be in the pool year round.) I knuckled down, poured repeatedly through the catalogue, and finally made a choice of style, then changed my mind, tried again. The reason that's difficult, of course, is having two bad rotator cuffs and needing to get in and out of the thing both comfortably and by myself. Of course I have Steve around, but stuff happens, even just the possibility that he's asleep when I want to change. 

The catalogues never show the back of the suit. I need that information.  I finally googled some information and found out that athletic style means the straps join in the upper back and go down the center. That's great for speed, I guess, but not so much for slipping straps over the shoulders without effort. One search parameter figured out then for elimination. Eliminating another, I finally decided to go for two pieces, and furthermore that the bottoms should be "boy pants. "   They give a 5" inseam, providing much better modesty even when they get a bit baggy, important because of course they will get baggy. Looking around in the rec center pools, they and even longer pants have become quite popular, hiding scars, cellulite, jiggles, varicose veins, and whatever.  Some women even wear long sleeves, a preventative against skin cancer, chemical free. 

(Now if some of these men could just find suits that hung somewhere higher than 1/2" above their pubic bone.... Hey, guys, we women are actually laughing at you, strutting around pretending you have a long torso and slim waist. What we don't laugh at are the men who actually own their size and wear their suits on top of their hip bones, whether one can find them or not. Thinking one can hide a huge belly by showing it off boggles the mind.  And no, you cannot convince us you have pregnancy envy. ROTFLMAO! )

Once I narrowed my choices down that far, the remaining question was size. The current suit was no help. Even if it had any size tags left in it, it was a long way from that size now. I had no real idea what my size should be from this catalogue, so I decided to compromise. I'd order two sets. I'd aim for what I thought I was, and get one size smaller as well. They had a great exchange policy, so it seemed hard to lose.

Some people have a real and particular talent. Haven't you noticed? Mine seems to be in an invisible self image. Must come from years of avoiding mirrors. I kind of lucked out though. The smaller size would be perfect... except they sent the wrong design in the top. I ordered what should have been coordinating colors, in purple, pink and blue tops, and one each of pink and purple boy pants. Did you know they call purple "mirtilla" now? Never heard of it, though it seems to be a Crayon color. Mix or match, it should have netted me a coordinated combination that fits. Unfortunately the top that would have fitted best came in black, red and white, so starkly ugly I didn't even open the package. But the pants in that size were perfect, so I kept those. The top which worked with the colors was a bit big. So I kept it and began taking it in, a bit at a time. Alter, wear in pool, evaluate, make next alteration. There was no going back to the old suit. It, like Elvis, had left the building. 

So now the only decisions remaining were return? Exchange for a 2nd set in the right colors a size smaller for future use? I spent much of my time while recovering from surgery and being exiled from the pool to make up my mind. It helped that the package the suits came in also contained a plethora of catalogues, including a tiny one of only swimsuits. It included what I'd thought I'd just bought the second set of, so they were still in stock. Great. In the meantime, I both lacked trust that ordering the alternate design would actually gain me the design I wanted, and had fallen in love with the fabric of the suit I was wearing. That simplified it down to ordering a repeat of what I wore but smaller than what should have fit without alterations. Once this suit stretches out and/or I shrink further, I'll have the perfect replacement set. I'm guessing two or three years of pool walking before I have to go through swimsuit hunting again.

Decision made, it was time for the paperwork. They send their clothes out with return mailing labels and another form for the factory folk so you get actual credit for what you are returning. Except....

Of course there has to be a hitch, right? The form said I get store credit for anything but I pay shipping, or a refund but I have to pay for shipping the unwanted stuff back. I tried their website to see if that gave me any alternatives.  It offered a flat-out exchange (no shipping cost) but didn't explain how my return form fit their exchange requirements. Which of a bazillion scattered numbers was the one which was my original order number? It needed 11 digits, but nothing qualified. Why was I returning it? Explain on a one quarter inch long line. I could write "size" for the one, but how do you squeeze "while the numbers on the bag match the catalogue choice, the contents don't"  into a quarter inch? Time for the 800 number call.

It took 5 different ways of going through their voicemail system before I finally got the one which netted me not only an actual human but - AMAZINGLY! - one who spoke English as a first language. Some of the voicemail destinations started out sounding helpful, but then relayed "information" so quickly I couldn't keep up, like having to write down 8 or maybe ten- who could tell? - numbers to put on the form, rattled off like they were emerging from a semi-automatic at a mass shooting. No chance of a repeat, much less getting the repeat 6 times so I could try to catch each number eventually. Even the woman I finally reached was in a hurry to be done with me, totally indifferent to the issue that the wrong item was in the package and maybe somebody ought to know so they could fix it so it wouldn't keep coming back and/or losing them customers. (I try to be a helper, you know?) She suggested I just write "size" on both short lines, took my order for replacements, cautioned they won't get sent until the factory clears the return, and hung up on me in the middle of my trying to say "Thank you."

I suspect I'd absolutely hate working phones for that company! It's not like I was a crabby customer, as I wanted to be sure to tell her from the start that I was happy to have a real person who was helping me solve my issues and she was doing a good job. They must set deadlines for how long you can help somebody, one time size fits all problems.

Meanwhile the new suit has been in the pool three times. The adjustable straps have been hitched up twice. A dart has been tucked in the front center between the cups, though more will be needed there. Somebody on high has decided that everybody my size has need for Dolly Parton foam cups inside their swimsuit tops. At my age, my boobs simply try - out of embarrassment no doubt - to just slither under the cups instead of facing the reality that they just do not fill them. Since the straps are so far apart that they still slide off my shoulders, there's now a tuck in the back between where the straps attach, so at least the strap bottoms are closer together. More has to be done, but carefully so I can still get in and out of it on my own. 

Meanwhile I should get the replacement suit pieces in about a month. With luck, we'll still be here when the package arrives, so it doesn't have to try chasing me up north. Right now being here later seems more likely since Steve's pain doctor has been slow in giving appointments, and referrals for imaging. Steve finally got the imaging he needed, and gave up on waiting for the doc to follow through with an appointment, calling in to request one himself. But by now even the consult after reading the imaging results isn't scheduled for over a month, about a week before we planned to leave. It may be a short stay north and a high AC bill down here. At least I'll have a pool to cool off in and something to wear while doing it - and I do assure you, I am aware that is not helpful in the slightest for Steve, other than sticking around for whatever it takes. 

But we will.