It’s that time again—bathing suits are on sale. And, against my better judgment, I’ve been known to be tempted by economy into that chamber of horrors—the bathing suit fitting room. I know I should love my shape, whatever shape I’m in. But the fact is, something happens when I put on a bathing suit and look in the fitting room mirror. No matter what the bathing suit looks like, I see a white, frightening creature staring back. Clearly, the retail establishment has conspired to commit some sort of image witchcraft . I suck it up. How bad can it be? I hit the sale. I adjust the bathing suit straps, yank down the bottom and convince myself I look O.K. Maybe the sit-ups paid off just a little. I venture out to the big 3-way mirror. My confidence inches forward. Then, I look at the woman who is walking out of the next fitting room, also in a bathing suit. It’s Salma Hayek.
This actually happened.
This is why God created the internet. I now order my bathing suits on line.