CANCUN, Mexico -- There are two things that strike fear in my heart: Trying on swimsuits under fluorescent lights and then actually having to wear my swimsuit in public.
I have a feeling other women are the same way.
The reason I say this is because I have noticed on various occasions how gals are able to rise from their poolside chairs fully clothed and then somehow disappear beneath the water in their swimsuit.
No backsides. No cellulite. No hips revealed. It’s a study in the ingenuity of the adult female.
Unfortunately, I’m not quite that clever.
On our recent vacation in Cancun, I found myself baring all — and I wasn’t writing a blog. I’ve saved that kind of exposure until now.
The incident happened after a morning of relaxation by the resort swimming pool.
My husband, Bill, and I were cloistered in a private spot under our umbrella. He had his book. I had my sunhat, sun block, sunglasses, bottled water and romance novel. If all went well, I wouldn’t ever have to get up from my chair.
However, our biggest worry on this vacation was not getting our money’s worth of food at this all-inclusive hotel.
“It’s about time for lunch, don’t you think?” Bill mumbled from the pages of his novel. “We don’t want to miss the buffet.”
“You’re right,” I said as I layered on some more lotion. “I can’t wait to see what desserts they have today!”
Bill’s eyes lifted from his book and landed on my thighs. Even so, nothing could deter me from the allure of the next meal.
“I’ll meet you over by the restaurant,” I announced, “but first, I’ll stop in at the ladies’ room right here by the pool.”
We parted ways.
On my return, I casually stepped onto the walkway surrounding the spacious pool. Loud music played. Guests lounged in their chairs, beverages in hand. It was obvious they were enjoying...
Suddenly, I noticed a rail-thin young bikini-clad woman a few feet ahead of me pirouetting in stiletto heels. To my horror, I was in the middle of a fashion show.
And there was nowhere to hide.
“Yep, I saw you from the restaurant,” Bill laughed hysterically. “Here were all these skinny models,” he paused to catch his breath, “and then along came Grandma Lucy!”
Stripped of my dignity, the image was worse than the mirror in a department store dressing room.
Right then, Bill got a clearer picture, too. Seeing he’d exposed the naked truth, he added, “But it’s OK. You have an age-appropriate figure.”
I looked him in the eye, “You know, honey, I think life may be short. You’d better go eat dessert, first.”
Sometimes, we all have something to fear.