Runnin’ the Roads

Swimming in Louisiana By Barbara Sharik

     With so much water in Louisiana, many folks incorporate swimming into their vacation plans. I am no different. But it had been a long time since I’d worn a bathing suit when making plans for a trip to the Gulf.
 
     When I was young, bathing suits came fully-lined, double sewn and made of material you could use for a spare tire. Now that my body’s more elasticized than a bungee cord, designers have come out with bathing suits to drool for. Well, on the right body, somebody might do some drooling.
 
     And that’s the problem; the right body would probably belong to some tiny teen whose sensible Mom would not want her wearing the itty-bitty-polka-dot-bikinis on today’s market. Some of today’s suits look like florescent dental floss. In fact, the one piece suits I found in the bathing suit department had less material about them than did my first bikini way back when I was firmer and more able bodied.
Determined to buy a bathing suit, I skimmed the racks. The neon-colored pieces of cloth scared me. Other suits were so limp I feared for my modesty. I almost gave up simply because of an almost uncontrollable fear of entering a fitting room lined with mirrors, where I figured if I did get my body stuffed into one of those skimpy things I’d be arrested on the spot. I know how I look barely clothed, and I can’t even blame it on the fact that mirrors aren’t made the way they used to be. And they aren’t, you know.

     Finally, I found a one piece suit made of stronger material and braved the dreaded dressing room. But once I urged it on - because it didn’t come with a shoe horn and it should have, it looked like I was wearing an inner tube with parts of me popping out of the top and bottom.
 
     I tried on another and looked like I was wearing a napkin in a napkin ring. I quickly returned it to the rack before I ended up on a “Save the Whales” poster. I absolutely refused to go to the maternity department.

     The moral of this story is that I did not let a little thing like the lack of a bathing suit prevent me from enjoying my Louisiana vacation. I improvised. I ended up wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. It may not have made anyone drool, but at least it kept me from getting sunburned in places that hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time.
 
Barbara Sharik makes her home at Wit's End in Jones, Louisiana with a couple old dogs, young dogs and several stupid dogs, a cat, a talking cockatiel and a white dove. She's active in civic affairs, serves as a Justice of the Peace, a Notary Public, is the Clerk for the Village of Bonita and a columnist for the Bastrop Daily Enterprise. She has authored several books. You can e-mail Barbara at barbsharikvail @ hotmail.com