Baby Boomer's Agony of the Pool Party

by Pool Builders on 06-22-2010 in Articles

Summer is here and you know what that means? Your dear friends with the swimming pool are already planning their next party. Why is it that when someone owns a home with a pool they suffer from these compulsive urges to constantly show it off to others? As if a swimming pool is a novelty to the rest of us. I understand that they are proud of their pool and have spent a great deal of money on it, but I have seen one before and actually enjoyed a swim now and then. At my age I find the thrill of diving into a pool full of chlorine and ruining my hair and makeup which I have just spent hours perfecting in order to show up at their party in the first place is gone. I also do not look forward to standing around eating hamburgers and corn on the cob in my swimsuit while I bake in the hot sun. I require these reasons as I no longer have my menstrual cycle to fall back on as an excuse for not wearing a swimsuit that day. Pool parties are like Tupperware parties. No one should be expected to relive that kind of agony over and over again in the space of one lifetime.

An unexpected invitation to a pool party will occasionally impair my judgment. I begin to believe that I am over my past fears and perhaps I would not look too bad in a swimsuit after all. (I seem to forget that at this stage of the game my body is actually not improving with age.) I head off to the department store armed with a new found confidence. I grab a dozen different suits off the rack and brave the dressing room at Macy's. I have a tendency to avert my eyes away from the mirror in between trying on clothes. This in order to avoid the shock and depression that I know is coming if I actually glance up at my own reflection. Now I am forced to look at what others might see if I continue to pursue this madness. I am instantly greeted with three images of my pasty white, cellulite ridden body in a one piece retro polka dot number that I have just managed to stuff myself in to. This is the suit with the boy shorts that is highly recommended for mature women. Somehow, I am a far cry from my fantasy of resembling Marilyn Monroe in it even it I did tie the matching scarf in my hair. I am quickly reminded why I have not appeared in public wearing a swimsuit since Grammar School.

After experiencing this revelation, I now realize that I am stuck in this hideous suit. I had somehow managed to get it over my hips but now I can't seem to reverse my actions. After 5 minutes of concentrated effort, I give up and listen for the sales clerk to come to my rescue but hear nothing by my own heavy panting. I am certainly not going to leave this room and risk being seen trying to flag her down in the middle of the store. I think about just shredding it off my body and hiding it in the middle of the other suits. No, she would be certain to notice the mass of hanging threads. It would be less obvious to the clerk if I could just make a clean cut on one side. I scour my purse for scissors and find nothing sharper then an emery board. Why was I always unprepared? I panic and begin to think like a criminal. I could throw my clothes on over it and make a mad dash for the door if only I wasn't on the 4th floor. Unfortunately, by the time I was able to reach the escalator, I would have a dozen security personnel hot on my trail. I could not possibly outrun them. My eyes drift down to the floor and I congratulate myself for not shopping at Marshalls. Instead of having a mere 2 feet of room and a dirty linoleum floor I have clean carpet and enough space to almost lie down. The lying down position shifts the fat and I am finally able to "inch" that baby off me. As I leave the dressing room perspiring and beet red, I run into the clerk and hand her the garments. I ignore her "How did these work out for you?" question and instead make a beeline for the casual dress department. I lovingly caress the sundresses and make a decision to purchase one. I sprint down the stairs to the shoe department. I find a darling pair of sandals with kitten heels that will pull my entire outfit together. I promise myself that if I have to make excuses for not swimming that day, it is worth it just to feel comfortable and confident.

If you are among those few lucky women who has managed to defy the laws of nature and still look fantastic in a swimming suit, will God love you then, because I sure don't.

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