Buying a bathing suit - the good, the bad and the ugly truth

by Karen Hamilton

I've seen Hell and it looks like the bathing suit department at The Bay.

Friday: My daughter (also in the market for a new suit) and I hit the shop floor. This is the first year she and I are the same size and I'm caught up in the spirit of mother-daughter bonding and female solidarity.

The euphoric feeling lasts all of two minutes before I quickly learn the only thing worse than bathing suit shopping is bathing suit shopping with a comely girl on the cusp of adolescence.

As she gamely grabs bikinis, tanks and all things Spandex, I work my way through the racks offering "Waist Minimizer's" and "Bust Enhancers".

We hit the change rooms and minutes later, she emerges with the perfect suit - a black tankini halter.

I, on the other hand, am struggling and in a moment of misguided inspiration, ask her to hand over the tankini.

She hesitates. Extracting a promise from me to never wear it anywhere we might be seen together, she gives me the bathing suit.

I'm hopeful. It looked good on her so it should look good on me and if it does, we'll buy two.

We go home with one bathing suit.

Saturday: I set out on my own to a big downtown department store. There must be over 1,000 bathing suits on the floor and I'm hopeful one will work.

Steeling myself for the search, I try to remember the tips I've garnered from years of reading fashion magazines. Categories like: "Peanuts" - big breasts, small waist, big hips; "Egg Plants" - narrow shoulders, small breasts, big hips; and "Green Onions" - tall, thin, small breasts, small hips, waist and butt - come to mind.

Deciding to focus on suits for the freakish cross between an Egg Plant and a Peanut, I begin the hunt. Grabbing anything and everything that might be suitable, I head for the fitting room.

Bathing Suit Number One - The Boa Constrictor - Promising to make me look 1" smaller in the waist and hips, nowhere does it state where that 1" will relocate. Rooting for my chest, I'm disappointed when the 1" is pushed inward, severely limiting several body functions including breathing and moving.

Bathing Suit Number Six - Colour Story - Pretty patterned number in brilliant colours, very au courrant. A glimpse in the three way mirror however reveals a rear end that could too easily be mistaken for the children's beach ball.

Bathing Suit Number Nine - Bling, bling, bling! A perfect suit if ever I plan to audition for a part in the chorus line of a Vegas show. For floating on a pool noodle at the end of the dock, not so much.

(Hmmm . . . Perhaps I'm asking too much. Maybe women aren't actually meant to swim in their bathing suits.)

Bathing Suit Number 14 - The Bust Enhancer - A simple, one-piece black number with lots of extra padding in the cup. So much padding, in fact, that the top half stands stiffly on its own, extending several inches in front of my own chest. Can see how this would be extremely useful if I ever intend to carry my lunch, the phone book or a small child down the front of my bathing suit.

Bathing Suit Number 16 - Bling on Boobs. Also part of the "Bust Enhancer" line, the bosom of this otherwise plain suit is covered in sequins, beads and assorted shiny objects. The intended effect is to make a diminutive bust appear larger but the actual result is something akin to armour. Excellent choice should I ever need to take a bullet at the beach.

Reaching the end of my pile, I leave the changing room discouraged. Once again I've failed in my search. I'm about to get on the escalator and leave the floor when suddenly, the perfect thing catches my eye. I'm in love! And low and behold, a perfect fit.

When I get home my husband asks what I bought.

"New shoes!"

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