Life is unkind for a middle age woman. Yes, I can opine because it is that time of year. I made the mistake of entering the swim suit department of the store. Deep depression set it. The designers have no scruples. I hope they can reap their millions from the toned bodies of young maidens, because they certainly did not have the largest consumer group in mind when they chose their styles this year (once again). Very few baby boomer women are going to (or even can) fit into what they call "Bathing Attire" these days.
Every year, I go with an open mind, saying to myself, "It really is not that bad. After all I am not that big and I am not trying to find something Bridgette Bardot would have even considered. I just want a decent, conservative, one piece swimming suit." And, every year I am faced with the same harsh reality. Ground Hog Day all over again. The offerings do not get any more bearable. (Actually, one of the issues is that they are too bare-able - but I digress.)
I am thankful that the $29.99 swimsuit I purchased in 2005, the stalwart of my water apparel wardrobe, is faithfully still around. Given that it has now averaged costing me $3.75 a year to wear, I think that is one heck of a bargain. At this point, there is no telling what I would pay for the same suit, should I ever be able to find one like it. And, unfortunately, so far that has not been the case.
Given the unpleasant reality, I walked out of the store, took a deep breath of fresh air, and realized that, yes, aging is a bitch and youth is definitely wasted on the young. Life will go on. And, I am sure next year this time, in a lapse of amnesia, I'll find myself once more venturing down an aisle to see if perhaps, by chance, a designer has decided that not all women who shop for swim suits are built like Hiedi Klum, even after she has had three children.
With my shopping over, I made my way to Chick-Fil-A and saw, of all things, they were serving their Peach Milk Shakes. Oh, the gods are cruel and if I did not know better, I may suspect a conspiracy. But, I'm not paranoid, just depressed. And, 850 calories will fix almost anything. Of course eating because you don't fit into a swimsuit makes about as much as, well, let's say designing swim wear that doesn't fit the largest market you can tap. But, who am I? Just a middle age woman trying to find something to buy.