So I found myself in the dressing room at Victoria’s Secret trying on the Bombshell bikini top. Now, I don’t have a problem with a little enhancement. Sometimes a little smoothing, shaping, or boosting can make a big difference. I believe in making the most of what you have. But there’s a point at which enhancement turns into something else entirely.
We’re going to a beach resort next week. The bikini was Pete’s idea. I never thought I would wear a bikini again in this life, and I said as much. But my friend Julia, with her southern drawl said, “Oh, why not? You’ll be in a different country, your second honeymoon. Go for it.”
I hadn’t found anything in the department stores, so there I was in Victoria’s Secret, rifling through bikinis that looked a lot like lingerie. At that point I had tried just about everything with no success, except the Bombshell which I was avoiding. It promised to boost my bosom two cup sizes, but I was skeptical. My sister Jacqueline said, “Oh, why not?”
Well, I could think of a few reasons. First of all, how could it possibly look convincing? And even if it did, wouldn’t it seem odd if I suddenly shrank two cup sizes when I changed into my regular clothes? Doesn’t consistency matter here? And foam breasts. Would they soak up water like a sponge or keep me afloat? Something about it just seemed unnatural, unseemly. I don’t know.
But my sister is very persistent.
I discovered that extreme push-ups assume you have something to “push up.” But I don’t, so it was like having two coconut halves strapped to my chest. The large, stuffed cups just floated out there, independent of everything else. I kept thinking, “breastplates.” They were so thick, they probably would’ve made good shields. I imagined myself, spear in hand, like some Valkyrie.
I ended up buying nothing at Victoria’s Secret. Later I did manage to find two bikinis at Macy’s with molded cups. No breastplates, no coconuts. And Pete still gets his bikini wish.