Sunday, 21 April 2013

Bathing Suit

Since the weather heated up so dramatically last week, I have been thinking about buying a newbathing suit. The elastic in my old one is so far gone, that it easily fits me twice these days.

I absolutely can not think of anything worse to shop for than a bathing suit. The horror of getting completely undressed in a too brightly lit changing room only to try and wriggle yourself in some hideous swimming costume is something that I try to avoid at all cost. But I reckon that in a month or so, we will be back at our local 'Badi', a lovely beach at the shore of Lake Zurich, so I can not procrastinate any longer. But how to go about it in yet another country?
Years ago, whilst living in England, I was ok. English women are a normal size and once I had myself fitted for a bra at John Lewis by a matronly, middle aged and very stern woman, I sort of understood the alien sizing as well. I managed to find a lovely black and mint green bathing suit, that served me well for a number of years. I could have worn that suit forever, if it weren't for my husband who, the minute he discovered how see through it had become, forbade me to ever put it on again.
As soon as we moved to lovely Italy I knew shopping was going to be extremely difficult. Not only do most Italian women have no bust, a fair few of them manage to keep the figure of a teenage girl well into their forties. Oh dear, where to even start looking for a swimming costume in the land of gelato?
I opted for the easy way out and power shopped for new swimwear whilst visiting the Netherlands. In exactly six minutes and thirty-two seconds I managed to grab a sort of ok looking suit off the sale rack. I took a deep breath, tried it on, and -small miracle - it fitted me.
Needless to say I have been wearing the vaguely raspberry coloured bathing suit for around three years now. Untill I recently wore it, visiting a spa, and noticed it has grown at least two sizes over the last year.  Too stop myself from ever wearing it again I covered the costume in shoe polish, tried to set fire to it, before finally cutting it in half.
Now I am faced with the daunting task to buy a swimming costume in Switzerland. Not a mean feat, considering that Swiss women seem to either like very sporty bathing suits, or bikini's. I am not a good enough swimmer to justify a sleek Speedo and I absolutely deteste bikini's. It is difficult enough to keep myself smothered in sunscreen lotion without adding my very white tummy to the burden. So, there is nothing for it but to buy myself a new bathing suit.
So today I took the plunge and shopped online. I am a big fan of internet shopping, but have never risked to order something that needs to fit so perfectly as a swimming costume should. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I am holding my breath till it arrives. Will it fit?
Knowing myself I will wear the new cozzy anyway, because by the time it has arrived and I have paid the destested Swis tax, I will not send it back. So if you see me fully clothed in the Badi next month, my experiment has obviously failed miserably. In which case I will have to come up with a very plausible reason to make a whirlwind visit to the Netherlands. Fast.