One small step for a bikini...

One giant hard-on for mankind.

I think everyone who regularly reads this blog knows of my feelings regarding the annual Sport Illustrated Swimsuit issue (which appears on newsstands right around Valentine's Day -- how sweet).

I actually didn't blog about the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue last year, because, frankly, how much more is there to say about big busted women posing in tiny bikinis (or a thong, or body paint, which is now, apparently, considered swimwear, even though if you actually tried to swim in it, it would wash off, which, okay, may be the point, but I digress) in exotic locations?

But try as I might to ignore this year's 50th Anniversary Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue, when I heard about Kate Upton's zero gravity shoot ("Kate Upton Defies Gravity"), I had to see what all the fuss was about.

And, I have to admit, this behind-the-scenes video of the Kate Upton Sports Illustrated 2014 Swimsuit issue zero gravity shoot is pretty awesome -- and funny.



For those interested, Kate Upton is wearing a Target limited edition swimsuit. Because, you know, I'm sure y'all were wondering "Huh, I wonder who made that swimsuit?" or "Where can I get that bikini?" when you were watching that video.

[Photos from the Kate Upton zero gravity shoot here.]

When your bikini days are numbered

[Alternate title: Gravity is bringing me down.]

I have a love/hate relationship with summer. Mostly it's love.

I love the warm weather. I love seeing leaves on the trees and flowers everywhere. I love the extra hours of daylight. I love not hearing the teenager bitch about school. I love being able to sleep a little later in the morning. I love watching baseball (or I do when the Mets don't completely suck). And I love taking long walks on the beach.

Or at least I used to love going to the beach. Before we all became paranoid about skin cancer -- and the annual ritual of trying or putting on a bathing suit didn't make me depressed.

Fortunately, there are lotions and sprays (and clothes and hats) that can protect you from the sun's damaging UVA and UVB rays. Sadly, however, there is nothing, at least not yet, that can truly prevent or alter the effects of gravity.

Gravity is a bitch. No matter how healthy your diet or how much you exercise, or avoided the sun and nicotine, you can't fight gravity -- or old age. Unless you are one of the lucky people who inherited anti-gravity genes. Which, sadly, I am not.

Even so, I had hoped that having worked out regularly since I was 16, having eaten a healthy diet for over 20 years, having drunk alcohol in moderation all my adult life, not smoking, and wearing sunblock (and not staying out overlong in the sun) would ward off or delay the onset or onslaught of wrinkles and sagging. Wrong! (Note to self: Buy rum and pina colada mix in town tomorrow.)

Now it is summer again. Time to unbox my swimsuits and figure out which ones stay and which ones go. Each year, the decision gets harder -- as I take a longer, harder look at myself in the bathroom mirror and silently weep at the extra folds of skin that were not there last season. And I think to myself, am I now too old, and too saggy, to wear a bikini? Do bikinis have an expiration date, or just the women wearing them?

Which bitch has the real...

(rhymes with "bits")?

I'm pretty sure it's not the one in the bikini...



































Btw, for those of you who do not regularly drool over "read" Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit Edition, that would be Kate Upton, a surgically enhanced* 19-year-old from Florida. And for those of you who do not regularly watch the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, that other picture would be Ch Protocol's Veni Vidi Vici, aka Fifi or the Fifinator, the bitch who won the Working Group (and a champion Doberman Pinscher). I will leave you all to figure out which bitch is which -- and who has the real tits.

[A quick aside re last night's Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show finale. I cannot believe the Pekingese, Malachy, won Best in Show. Best in Show? More like Best in Mop. Sheesh.]

*Can someone please explain what could compel a beautiful teenage girl to have totally unnecessary elective surgery? I find this trend very disturbing.

You'll get a charge out of this bikini.

Literally.

Introducing the solar-powered bikini!

















As Paris Hilton would say, now that's hot!

No more worrying about how to charge your iPod at the beach, ladies -- though forget about swimming. (Though really who swims in the ocean anymore, especially in a bikini?) That's because the solar bikini is made of dozens of photovoltaic film strips and USB connectors, providing enough juice to keep you in iTunes for hours. [Bonus: Also increases breast size!]

There's also a male version in the works, called the iDrink, which, in addition to powering an iPod, allows guys to keep their favorite beverage cool in the hottest situations (and places). [Makes a swell Father's Day gift!]

You can learn more about the solar-powered bikini and the iDrink at Solar Coterie. Custom orders now being accepted!

[H/T to friend of the blog JJV]

Time to stock up on muumuus?

If women of a certain age (i.e., moi) didn't have enough to worry about come late spring, now MORE Magazine, a magazine that supposedly "celebrates women over 40" -- HA! -- has to go and do a survey of how old is too old to wear a bikini -- or mini skirt or leggings or sexy tops. (What, no mention of shorts, MORE Magazine? Now that's what I call shoddy editing.)

To save you some time (though I encourage you to click on the link to see the full results of the survey), if you are 45 or over, you may as well kill yourself start shopping for muumuus now -- and stock up. Also, those of you 50 or over, if you haven't already done so, chop off all that hair NOW. (Seriously, could this survey be more depressing?)

Interestingly, on the TODAY Show site, where I found the MORE survey, the majority of people (of which I am one) when asked "Should age be a factor in what women wear?" replied "No. Rock it if you got it," which jibes with the comments I received on my related post on this topic, titled "Can women of a certain age wear bikinis?" (All I can say is, God bless you kind readers -- and Helen Mirren.)

As for me, as long as my abs stay as flat as my chest and I can cover my butt, I'm sticking with bikinis.

Rock it if you got it!

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

Last night, on Valentine's Day no less, several new beauty queens were crowned around New York City -- leaving many of their competitors and observers scratching their heads (and other body parts -- literally).

Over at Madison Square Garden, a long-haired, long-legged bitch named Hickory was awarded Best in Group. Personally, I was rooting for her shorter, cuter rival, Lola, who came in second. But, as we all know, there is no accounting for taste, especially when it comes to beauty contests.

(For those who didn't watch last night's Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, Hickory is a champion Scottish Deerhound, registered name GCH Foxcliffe Hickory Wind; and Lola is a 15-inch beagle, registered name GCH Torquay Midnight Confession. And they were competing against each other in the Hound Group.)

A little while later, another striking bitch, Jayne, who clearly is unfamiliar with Botox and has never gone under a plastic surgeon's knife, won the Non-Sporting Group, beating out what some would say was a much cuter, and certainly less wrinkly, Bichon Frise.

I say good for you, Miss Jayne! You go girl. (Again, for those who didn't watch the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show last night, Jayne, whose registered name is GCH Vaje's Miss Jayne Hathaway -- yes, for that Miss Jane Hathaway -- is a Chinese Shar-Pei.)

A short time later, not too far away at the Ed Sullivan Theater, David Letterman revealed the cover of this year's Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, after having 10 of the models from this year's swimsuit issue humiliate themselves doing one of the most insipid Top 10 lists I've ever seen, "Top Ten Good Things About Appearing in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition."

And gracing the cover of the 2011 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition is... surgically enhanced Russian model Irina Shayk.

Me, I'll take Hickory the Scottish Deerhound or Miss Jayne the Chinese Shar-Pei over Miss Shayk the Russian Supermodel any day, but I'm sure I am in the minority (at least in a mixed crowd). Not that I don't think Irina Shayk isn't attractive. I just prefer the more natural-looking Hilary Rhoda and Julie Henderson -- and Lola the beagle (though I am a bulldog lover).

More importantly, I wish that pretty girls were secure enough to feel they didn't need big fake boobs to be attractive -- and that magazines like Sports Illustrated would feature natural-looking (I'm not going to say "real" because who really looks like a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model?) women on its cover and pages. Maybe we can learn something after all from the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.

UPDATED: In a big upset, my gal Hickory won Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show last night. Way to go, Hickory! You can read more about Hickory winning Best in Show here.

Of bras and panties and going Commando

[Alternate titles: Miracle on 64th Street or Making Mountains Out of Mole Hills]

Ever since reading this article (about the A-cup crowd) and this other article (about finding the perfect bra) in The New York Times back in September, I have been dying to go see Linda The Bra Lady, in New York City, and have her team of expert bra fitters work their magic on me (or certain parts thereof), just like she did on Live with Regis and Kelly:



So, for my birthday, I made an appointment to go to Linda The Bra Lady's store, with my friend, G. And lo and behold, right there on 64th Street and Lexington Avenue in New York City, a miracle occurred. For how else can I possibly explain my ability to suddenly wear a C-cup (without the benefit of plastic surgery or pregnancy) -- and a form fitting C-cup at that? It was a miracle, I tell you -- or else the work of some very marketing-savvy bra manufacturers. (Evil, evil bra marketers.)

Whatever the reason, being professionally fitted (i.e., smooshed, or should I say, artfully arranged?) into one gorgeous bra after another, all of which looked great on, made me feel like a true C-cup -- a really pretty, sexy C-cup. Note: Being fitted for a bra -- or being a bra fitter for that matter -- is not for the faint of heart (or breast) or the modest. Without going into too much detail, let me just say, I have a much greater appreciation for how butchers manage to squeeze sausage into a casing and get it to look so good.

Sadly, while the bra fitting -- and acquisition -- was a great success (I totally heart you, Simone Perele!), I had no such luck with panties. Sure, lacy thongs and silky boy shorts look great -- on a hanger, or a Victoria's Secret model, both of which, when last I checked, didn't have buttocks. On me? Not so much.

And there was no way I was going Commando, a product no doubt inspired by Britney Spears, which apparently is the latest rage -- with boxes of the "invisible underwear" prominently displayed in front of the register at Linda The Bra Lady's.

Note to Her Look Enterprises: If I can see them, they are not invisible. (Her Look markets the Commando simultaneously as "invisible underwear" and "better than nothing.")

Despite a momentary underwear low, though, I consider the outing a tremendous success. (Did I mention that I am now a C-cup, albeit only in some marketing bizarro world.) I only wish Linda's also sold swimsuits.

The Return of the Swedish Bikini Team

They're ba-ack. Well, sort of. Remember those Old Milwaukee beer commercials featuring the Swedish Bikini Team?



And you thought it didn't get any better than that.

Well, Columbia Sportswear has brought back the Swedish Bikini Team, the real Swedish Bikini Team, to hawk their new Omni-Heat jackets. And the gals are better and more Swedish than before!



Njuta!

Life's a beach... which is why you need a bikini

So dear, wonderful, marvelous friends of ours who live in Massachusetts (you know who you are) invited J-THREE-O to come stay with them for a week -- last week -- and attend the summer art camp at the MFA with their daughter. So the spouse and I decided to take off a few days and go to Block Island.

The trip was nearly derailed at the last minute when the proprietor of the inn we were to stay at called the night before we were to leave to inform us there had been a plumbing disaster and our room was not habitable. However, she said, they could put us up in a smaller room with no view or reserve us a room similar to the one we had reserved just down the block, at Payne's Harbor View Inn (which hadn't received as great reviews on TripAdvisor as the place we had booked).

To further dampen my once euphoric mood, it had been POURING all day, and the forecast wasn't looking too good for the next day or two -- and we had planned on bringing our bikes (just our bikes, no car, which we couldn't bring).

I was ready to cancel, and save us (okay, me) some money and heartache, but the spouse convinced me that we should go, taking the room at Payne's Harbor View. And boy am I glad he did! (More below.)



















































While the weather was not great (cloudy and relatively cool -- but no rain!), it was perfect for biking and walking. And, on a trip into town to look for footwear (I somehow forgot my sandals at home), I found... a bikini!!!

Apparently I had been looking for a bikini in all the wrong places, namely in swimsuit shops and in the women's swimsuit department.

As it happens, I am a perfect Size 14. Girls, that is. Which I discovered while looking at swimsuits in a sports apparel store on Block Island. I hadn't planned on going in the store, but then I saw a rack of colorful swimsuits, which I made a beeline for -- and immediately found a nice-looking bikini. But I could not believe the tag, which said it was a size 14. A size 14?! Maybe that "1" was a mistake.

So I asked the saleswoman to tell me what size the itsy bitsy polka dot bikini was. She took a look. "It's a size 14," she confirmed. "A girls size 14."

Now while some of my female readers will huff and puff about me being petite enough to fit into a Girls Size 14 anything, let me tell you that the thrill of being able to buy your clothes at GapKids wears off after about five minutes. Also, you cannot buy work dresses or suits at GapKids. And really, would you want to look like a barely adolescent female, with no breasts and the added bonus of a flabby flat ass?

Yes, having a taught tummy is nice, but so are breasts. And did I mention all the stretch marks and wrinkles (on my face) I have accumulated over the years? (During the trip I decided my Indian -- excuse me, Native American -- name should be "Squinto" or "Many Crows Feet.")

Anyway, I bought the suit, and proceeded to wear it around Block Island, and the world didn't end. Hey, if Helen Mirren can do it, so can I (and she's got over 20 years on me)!

Bikini FAIL

As I was recently reminded, it takes four things to successfully wear a bikini:

1. Good abs;
2. A tight tuckus (aka a firm derriere -- or bottom, butt, booty, moneymaker, or ass);
3. Boobs -- specifically ones that are bigger than your spouse's; and
4. A whole lot of self confidence (or be seriously in denial)

And apparently I possess just one of these attributes.

While I long ago realized I would never be a Victoria's Secret or Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, I had always harbored hopes of one day looking good or better than okay in a bikini. And I thought my moment had finally come after giving birth to my daughter, when I suddenly had breasts. (God, I loved nursing.) Sadly, I also developed a gut and hips from all the hot dogs and ice cream I hoovered down to keep up with her relentless nursing schedule. So I put my bikini dreams on hold.

Then a few years ago, due to illness and stress (as well as eating less and exercising more), a miracle occurred: I suddenly had abs. Really nice abs. I wouldn't go as far as to say I had a six-pack, but definitely a three-pack, and to reward myself, I bought a bikini. And man, I loved that blue bikini -- so much so that when the straps broke, I sewed them back on, by hand. But when they broke a third time, and then the elastic went, I had to send blue bikini to that big swimming hole in the sky -- and figured my days of wearing a two-piece swimsuit were over. After all, I was "a woman of a certain age," and suddenly felt self-conscious about exposing my midriff (and other body parts) publicly, as I discussed in this post.

But then several friends, as well as the spouse, told me that wearing a bikini had nothing to do with age and everything to do with attitude and that if Helen Mirren could rock a bikini, so could I. And so buoyed by this thought, and summer, I recently went bikini shopping (forgetting that although she is/was 63, Helen Mirren: a) still has great-looking breasts and b) a bottom that doesn't hang out of her bikini bottom).

First piece of advice re bikini shopping: Never ever shop for bikinis in the presence of lean, leggy, busty teenagers or twentysomethings. If you see these temporary freaks of nature (just wait until they've had a couple kids and are in their 40s!), just put down that suit you were planning on trying on and quietly leave. Come back another day when they are in camp or at work and the store is empty or filled with matrons or German tourists.

Second piece of bikini shopping advice: Be sure to wear seamless flesh-colored underwear, the skimpier the better. No matter what shape you are in, there is no way that bikini bottom is going to look good tried on over your granny panties, polka-dot hipsters, or lavender briefs.

And my third piece of bikini shopping advice: Take a good friend or someone who truly cares about you with you, if for no other reason than to give you a hug and tell you are still beautiful as you stand there weeping and wailing after having tried on, oh, at least a dozen swimsuits, all of which made your ass look big and flabby and your breasts look like ant hills someone just stepped on.

So no, I did not buy a bikini this weekend -- and doubt I will be buying one any time soon. And come winter, I will put those Victoria's Secret catalogs I keep receiving to good use, in my fireplace.

Can women of a certain age wear bikinis?

(Or maybe the better question is, Should women of a certain age wear a bikini?)

You know it's almost summer when every day there's a new bikini or swimsuit offer from Victoria's Secret in your in box. And, I have to admit, Victoria's Secret does have some nice bikinis. And I could probably use a new swimsuit, and have actually been thinking about buying a bikini (though probably not one from Victoria's Secret -- unless they include a pair of C-cup breasts with it) as I'm in pretty good shape these days.

But recently I have been wondering if I am too old to be parading around in a bikini. (Not that I would be parading anywhere. More like leisurely strolling or sitting in a chaise longue reading a book.)

Yeah, sure, it's fine for some hot twentysomething swimsuit model to parade around in a bikini. (Curse you, Brooklyn Decker, and your not-so-little Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue friends, too!) But what about the other 99.8% of the female population, especially us women of a certain age? Is it still okay for us to expose our navels and a little bit of derriere in public? Or should I just opt for a muumuu? (Or does it have nothing to do with age and everything to do with confidence and/or how you look?)

Let me know your thoughts -- and if there are any rules for wearing a bikini -- via the Comments.

In the meantime, here's a bonus video clip from "How to Stuff a Wild Bikini," one of seven classic "Beach Party" movies made by American International Pictures back in the 1960s.