Secondhand swimwear 'barely' a bargain

My tendency for thrift is well-known to friends, family and quite likely anyone who has followed along on these pages for any amount of time. While some may consider me a cheapskate, the person who knows me best understands my frugality is rooted in a deep desire to spend as little money as possible in any given circumstance. To Kristin, I’m not a cheapskate. I’m a bargain hunter, and frankly, she is every bit as tight with a nickel as I am.

Our shared passion for penny-pinching often carries us to one or more of the various secondhand, thrift and resale shops in our area, where we peruse the aisles separately and end up at the cash register together. We each have our own methods and motivations.

Kristin is primarily looking for unique articles of clothing to add to her already overstuffed closet and secondarily for fun, artsy items to fill the ever-shrinking flat surfaces in our home. I am generally looking for good books and occasionally items of clothing to replace those I have thoroughly and totally wrung the life out of. Kristin shops for fun. I shop for utility. Either way, it’s made for a whole lot of cheap dates across nearly four decades of togetherness.

Several months ago I happened upon an item rarely seen in our circuit of secondhand stores. How a brand-new, tags-on, men’s competition swimsuit ended up at the thrift shop will forever remain a mystery. I’m guessing the “bicycle shorts” style suit was bought with the best intentions for low drag and fast laps; however, once its new owner tried it on, his own best intention was to get rid of it.

Unless you’re swimming laps, there’s not much of a place in this world for a skin-tight men’s swimsuit. Kristin and I have swum laps several times a week forever, and I burn through the same type of suit several times a year. Here was one at a fraction of the price I typically pay. I snatched it up quicker than a loaf of day-old bread.

I cruised the lap lanes with the slipperiness of a seal in that suit. My times came down, my fitness went up and all the while the suit held its form every bit as well as an expensive, new-bought suit. Of particular note, while most swimwear signals its end through a slow, chlorine-induced fade, this suit kept its jet-black form through months of training. Call it a charming attribute that precipitated a tragic end.

One day, fresh out of the locker room, I stood for a moment at the edge of the pool to wait for Kristin. A fidget for the delay, I bent over to wet my goggles at the water’s edge. The “rip” might have sounded obvious had I not been wearing my earplugs. What was clear and undeniable, however, was the sudden breeze that gusted across my nether regions. In a single instant, the center seam had let go — and not in a small and prudent spot, mind you. The entire garment had exploded from stem to stern with the subtle discretion of a laser light show.

Kristin emerged from the locker room in that very instant to find me in full flash. And after catching her breath from a gasp that is likely still bouncing off the walls of the natatorium, she quickly offered her towel, which I used to awkwardly retreat back into the locker room.

The pool staff, alerted to the situation by Kristin’s gut-busting guffaws, offered a suit from the lost and found. The loner was a “Jurassic Park” themed pair of shorts featuring a fearsome, toothy Tyrannosaurus Rex — a scene far less frightening than what had transpired only moments before.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.