It was a dark and stormy night... Not quite. Let's start over. Somewhere on Walnut Street, a swimmer was trying to find the answer to life's persistent problems (oh wait, too derivative of Guy Noir on Prairie Home Companion...). Anyhoo... it all started when I set out in pursuit of truth, beauty, and an unfaded, relatively (!) inexpensive swimsuit at City Sports.
I entered this emporium of all things athletic duly equipped with a coupon obtained from the Philly Distance Run for 20% off non-sale merchandise. Little did I know that this coupon was scant protection from Sticker Shock. Many of the suits, at $70 or so, sniffed haughtily at my coupon. I was surrounded by these suits, about to go under--and then it happened!
Finally, I found a suit that seemed willing to talk. It was plain to be sure, a navy Speedo, but it had several advantages that recommended themselves immediately: it was available in my size; its price with coupon would be a hair under $40. And it was not faded beyond recognition. I would at last be spared the drag of two suits or the ignominy of ... well ... a certain visibility under a single suit if you know what I mean.
So after unburdening myself of $40 minus change, I became the happy owner of a non-faded, fitting, if simple suit, which I happily wore swimming within a day or two of buying it and for which purpose, it seemed to work fine.
But I did wonder why the peculiar looks from the serious swimmers--the sympathy or scorn with which they regarded me, rather like the expression of the haughty expensive suits in the store. I developed an almost uncontrollable urge to wear an Aquajogger belt for my lap swims. And as if that wasn't enough, I was having my hair done and forgetting my swim cap, then getting irate at other swimmers for splashing my freshly styled hair. Friends stopped recognizing me. I was well on my way to hitting bottom.
Soon I was to learn the blunt truth. It came by way of the Kast-A-Way catalog anonymously dropped into my mailbox. Had the USMS Swimsuit Police been spying? In any case, I was determined to unearth the cause of the strange turn of events of the preceding days. Fortunately, I was sitting down sipping a glass of merlot when faced with the stark reality of it all. Searching for my suit in the catalog, I found it under (I do hope you're prepared for this...you're sitting, aren't you?) "Aqua Aerobics." Aha! That explained everything!
I should have known. The choice of "aquatic bra" or "soft cup bra" should have alerted me. Then there was the matter of the so-called "contemporary" cut, which still seemed modest by swimsuit standards. But don't worry. I'm getting therapy, gradually dealing with swimsuit issues (except for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue), and living somwhat happily ever after.
