Swimsuit Shopping


When I hauled my sorry carcass to the pool Thursday morning, it became all too obvious that my swimsuit was nearing the end of its natural lifespan. Long story short, it’s getting a little too stained glass window, and I notice that it doesn’t keep Cyndi Lauper syndrome reliably in check: no girls, you most certainly may not have fun, even if that’s all you really want: stay in the damn suit and behave.

I’ve only had my old suit a few months, but considering that I paid $14 for it on sale at Wal-Mart, it’s been a good run. Perhaps it’s a little sad that my swim goggles cost me more than my suit, but they’re beautiful and hot pink and I love them. I may need to rethink where I invest my swim budget dollars. After all, if the strap on my goggles gives up mid-swim, I get an eye full of water. If the strap on my swimsuit gives up, everyone else gets an eyefull.

Now that I’m a serious swimmer –okay, I’ll wait for you to stop laughing. Done? Now that I swim regularly, I decided I needed a proper suit that will hold up better and look reasonably attractive in the water. If I’m swimming around in a blue silicone cap, lumpy on top because my hair is wrestled into a bun under there, wearing bright pink goggles, which are awesome but do look a little eight-year-old mad scientist, my suit should probably be classy. It’s all about balance, no?

I went to the fancy pants swimsuit store, thinking that at the very least I could hope for reasonable change room lighting. My favorite kind of lighting for trying swimsuits on is none. Ink black. If I can get my butt wriggled into a tube of polyester/lycra blend in total darkness, it should be comfy in the water.

On the shelves, racks, and really skinny, really cold mannequins around that store were the most beautiful swimsuits. From across the room, I was drawn to a stunning suit in swirling blues, teals, and greens, with a palm leaf pattern underneath. It sang to me. It winked at me. It was hanging under a schmancy display that said, “Makes you appear 10 pounds slimmer instantly! Heck yes, please! Excited, and thinking about how fabulous I’ll look paddling around with the elderly next week, I grabbed my size off the shelf and turned toward the change room. Then I happened to check the price.

217 dollars. No, there is not a decimal point missing. Apparently, knocking ten pounds off me costs 217 dollars. If I do the math, I am then worth 21.70 a pound. Take note, please, that I am worth more than the finest porterhouse steak. Since this is Alberta, that’s a meaningful reference.

Really, I don’t know what to make of that realization. Hmmm. I’ll get back to you.

In the end, the sticker shock of what it costs to swim in a suit that doesn’t go transparent when wet or threaten to set my assets suddenly free dulled the flashy new swimsuit experience for me. After checking out numerous suits, I ended up purchasing the seventh runner-up.

It’s a black suit with a white confetti-looking pattern on it. Nothing fancy, but it was on super clearance for $39.99. Being called cheap is only an insult if you’re wearing a miniskirt and blue eyeshadow, you know.

copyright 2011:  http://bluespeckledpup.com

 

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5 Comments Add yours

  1. Smart girl! $217!!!!! That’s crazy! It probably cost 5 cents to make the darn thing!

    1. Kay at Blue Speckled Pup says:

      To be fair, it was a gorgeous swimsuit that appeared very, very well made. I just can’t justify spending that much money on something I wear to exercise.
      Besides, I bet it cost at least 7 bucks to manufacture.

  2. Cinderella says:

    It really is staggering what the good swinsuit stores charge now, isn’t it?
    Sigh. I remember when I was skinny and fit enough to wear colored dental floss:)

    1. Kay at Blue Speckled Pup says:

      And then they try to get you with their special “chlorine neutralizing swimsuit wash,” because you’re so afraid of your half a car payment swimsuit falling to pieces that you will spend more money to preserve it. It’s a conspiracy, I tell you!

      Oh Cinderella, I am certain you could still wear coloured floss if the mood struck. The reaction of onlookers may have changed a bit since the last time you wore it; that’s all. : )

  3. Sonje says:

    Ha! Great story! It’s crazy how much things can cost. I got this catalog in the mail a few months ago with all this wool clothing that was supposed to be lightweight and cool. They had a wool t-shirt, and for reasons too boring to go into right now, I was intrigued. I thought it might solve some issues. It was a plain, solid colored t-shirt, just the kind of thing I like. Then I checked the price. $80. For a t-shirt that was, as far as I could tell, not dipped in gold nor likely to go out and get a job to pay itself off. I decided that the $7 cotton t-shirts I can get at Old Navy would suffice.

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