It’s January – time to buy a swimsuit

It’s late January and you know what that means. It’s swimsuit
That’s right. I said

swimsuit season.

Oh sure it’s still cold. And maybe it’s even raining while you
read this.
It’s late January and you know what that means. It’s swimsuit season.

That’s right. I said “swimsuit season.” Oh sure it’s still cold. And maybe it’s even raining while you read this. And perhaps you are all cozy and warm in your big fluffy sweater and warm slippers and you aren’t even starting to think about the dreaded swimsuit season.

But, like it or not, it’s swimsuit season. Look, I know you aren’t ready for it – who is? Heck, it’s winter, for Pete’s sake. And in winter, we have winter bodies. These are bodies that have been eating steadily since Thanksgiving. Bodies that haven’t said “no” to a second piece of pie. Bodies that may have gone back to the gym – but they haven’t started the serious workouts that will transform them from winter bodies into summer bodies.

But you’d better wake up and smell the Coppertone baby, because swimsuit season is here.

If you don’t believe me, check out the stores. All the swimsuits are stocked and ready, hanging on the racks, just waiting to cause pain and anguish for every woman who dares to try one on. I think we can all agree that this stinks. How could the people who run stores actually expect us to buy a swimsuit in January? And how dare they expect us to even TRY ON the stupid things when we still have our pudgy winter bodies? It’s ridiculous. But no matter how much protesting we do – it’s the way it is. It’s swimsuit season in January.

And there’s no way to protest this at all. Sure, you could decide that you will be the one woman who stands up against the retailers of the world and refuses to buy a swimsuit in winter. And do you know what will happen? When you go to buy a swimsuit in June, all the cute ones will be gone. This is because in June, all the sweaters will be out on display and the only swimsuit left in the entire store will be on an abandoned rack near the men’s section. And it will be the ugliest suit you’ve ever seen. And it will be two sizes too small for you. And you will be stuck buying it, because you refused to take your un-tanned, un-toned, packed-on-a-few-holiday-pounds body to the store in January to try on swimsuits.

And that stinks even worse than having to buy a swimsuit right now. I speak from experience.

Several years ago, I purchased a suit in the height of summer. Now, I figured it was okay. It was called a “Miracle Suit.” Apparently, you could buy this suit and look 10 pounds thinner, instantly. Well, heck, what person in her right mind would turn that down?

Turns out, these Miracle Suits are pretty miraculous. They suck in your belly and even lift a couple things that probably have been sinking in earth’s gravitational pull for a while and, in short, make you look pretty darned perky.

Trouble is, when your stomach and butt fat is all squished up, it needs someplace to go. So your thighs end up looking like giant boulders. Trust me when I say this isn’t flattering.

And I didn’t learn my lesson then, either. Three years ago, I was desperate, and I bought a swimsuit at the end of May. It was bright orange with purple stripes. And not the flattering vertical stripes, either. No, these were huge bands of horizontal, fluorescent purple that made me look like a killer whale that had been trapped in a nuclear meltdown. I spent the entire summer in fear that someone would harpoon me to put me out of my misery.

Ever since that horrific summer, I’ve purchased my swimsuits whenever the sadist retailers want me to buy them. I don’t want to spend another season by the pool frightened that someone would yell out “Shamu” and I’d answer.

And that’s why you will find me in the nearest store’s swimsuit section this weekend. I’ll be the woman in the stretch jeans, un-tanned, un-toned and with a body that’s eaten way, way too much since Thanksgiving, looking for a miracle of a suit – without stripes, of course.

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