Buying a bathing suit is sort of like buying a car. It’s exciting, depressing and tiring. And like any purchase, you have to test drive 200 different kinds to find the one you love.

Women look for a lot of the same features in swim apparel that they do in their rides. We want something that is sleek and fabulous. It needs to transform us into enviable beauties, the likes of which even those ladies in Sports Illustrated are jealous of.

It’s also a plus if we can find one with a very secure, very stable convertible top. And naturally, seating that doesn’t cause constant wedgies.

I was shopping for a new suit the other day and I noticed some things that left me quite disturbed. To be honest, the whole experience has left me a little bit shaken.

The first store I went to had all kinds of different options. The problem with this was, I didn’t see anything that I couldn’t make by myself at home. All I would need is a package of dental floss, tic-tacs, some glue and a few gum wrappers. It will come as no surprise to anyone that I ran out of there screaming.

The second store I went to had a few different selections, but only one that stood out. I was examining it when this lady, whose age was somewhere in the upper 90s-ish, came up and told me that she had just bought that exact suit a week ago. Again, I had to leave. I may be getting older, but I just can’t be running around in the AARP Haute’ Couture Swimsuit Line.

The third store I went in had a plethora of things to look at. There were tankinis, bikinis, one pieces and some with names that I hadn’t yet heard of before. I was thrilled. I thought if I couldn’t find something here, I was just too picky.

I dove in head first, ready to find what would make me the Spandex queen I’d always known myself to be.

I flitted around the store, yanking one suit after the other off of their racks. I had accumulated about 10 or so when I decided it was time to try them on. So, with my bundle of rainbow colored clothing, off I went.

A couple of them made me look a little bit like a watermelon shoved into a straw. I don’t know if you’re orchestrating a mental picture of this in your head or not, but let me assure you, it’s an ugly picture. I’ve been having night terrors about it.

One of the suits was actually really cute. It had intricate straps and pretty adornments. The problem was, once I got it off of the hanger, I couldn’t figure out how to arrange the straps back to normal. I lost circulation in my hands once when I got a couple of the strings tangled around my wrists.

On a high note, I’m pretty sure I invented a few new Yoga positions during the ordeal.

Department store changing rooms are made completely wrong for the purpose they serve. They need to straighten out some of the kinks in their design. I have a few complaints that I think will change them for the better.

First, they’re so small I can barely fit my elbow in them, let alone flail around while trying on clothes. We need room to move and mirrors on each wall that allow us a good look at our hind quarters without having to crane our necks. How can you expect a woman to buy something when her rear end might look big?

I don’t even know where to start with the lighting. I’ve never been in one, but I bet I’d look sexier shrouded in the light of a morgue lamp. If you have any kind of bump, lump or scar, they brighten up like glow sticks. It doesn’t do much for a girl’s self esteem.

So, to all you clothing stores out there, give a girl a break will ya?

I did finally come across something that was satisfactory. I dropped a few pounds and pulled a few muscles, but I succeeded.

I’m not going to be receiving jealously fueled hate mail from Cindy Crawford anytime soon. But, I’m pleased enough that I will allow myself to be seen in public while wearing it. I guess that’s all a girl can ask for.