What am I doing here? Why have I subjected myself to such humiliation? Me, who avoids the sun like a vampire and warns every one of the dangers of tanning and sunburns. Why am I in this dressing room trying on swimsuits?

Okay, well as most of you know I am going to the TYR reunion this month. Not only will I be in Tucson, but also I’m going out a week early to take in some of the Arizona sites. Of course I’m going to be in a very hot, sunny state for 10 days so odds are I’m going to run into a pool or two. And odds are, I might even want to go for a swim.

Now of course like most women, I do own a swimsuit. A nice, respectable one-piece which I keep for swims in hotel pools on rare occasion. However, as some of you are aware, I recently had my navel pierced and thought to myself, "Hey self, how bout a two-piece to show off that navel ring?".

So there I am in the dressing room, armed with every swimsuit in the store which struck my fancy. Of course this means I have carried in at least thirty swimsuits and a few cover-ups.

And so it begins, first swimsuit doesn’t fit. Ditto for the next five. Finally a swimsuit that might fit. I can’t really tell since the security tag is poking me in the left breast and a further distraction is the fact that there is a three-way mirror in the dressing room which enables you to see your flabby stomach and drooping butt all at the same time. Now isn’t that great!

A few more swimsuits to try on. Wait, what’s wrong with my foot. It’s stuck on something. Oh darn, now I’ve caught my stocking on the security tag. So there I stand, in a swimsuit which sags where you want it tight and is tight where you want plenty of room, my hose in shreds, my hair disheveled, and of course the obligatory signs on EVERY wall to announce that I am being monitored by security personnel. Well, I hope they’re having a good laugh! And of course, security personnel are monitoring me, but heavens forbid there should be a sales associate who might fetch a different size for me.

So, I must dress, return to the floor in search of the right size, return to the dressing room and start the process all over again.

So after ninety minutes of trying suit after suit on, the swimsuit I settled on? The only one I tried on which wasn’t on sale of course!

So when you see me poolside in Tucson, smile, say "nice suit" and move on. No further reminder will be needed to remind me of the day I stood in the dressing room viewing, from every angle thanks to the three way mirror, my humiliation which was as shredded as my stocking.

As for me, I’m going to sit down and enjoy a nice glass of wine and ponder the fact that we can put a man on the moon, but we can’t make a decent, well fitting, flattering swimsuit for under seventy-five bucks!