Home

 

VOL. 12.5

ARCHIVES:

By Mishelle Shepard
 

It has happened to us all at least once. Or maybe it has happened to me often enough to account for all the female visitors to Phuket. You know the drama. Maybe you realize it on the flight over, or on the way to the airport, or maybe just far enough away from your house that it is too far to turn back. Definitely, you realize it by the time you open that suitcase after an agonizing trip, longing for the first plunge into the cool azure sea just a few steps away. Inevitably, at some point comes the denial.

No! It can't be. It can not be. It must be here somewhere, you tell yourself, as items are frantically strewn from the case to blanket the hotel bed. Not your favorite, perfectly fitting, most essential beach companion.

Your swimming suit. At home. Forgotten. Or maybe even lost forever. And if it is not your suit, it is the go-with-everything tight white camisole or the favorite black bra. As far as bosom enhancing and concealing garments go, any woman can confirm that shopping for one in your own country is bad enough, but while on vacation? Forget about it.

I have talked to many like myself, those of us able to procrastinate for weeks or more to avoid this daunting task requiring hours of patience and will. Like a good friend, a real keeper could take years of trial and error to find. But, once found, she brings out your best assets: she is supportive and reliable under pressure. The trauma alone of the dreaded search for a new one must be just about the worst way to start a holiday.

 
As the dreaded realization of my tragic loss sinks in, I scan the beach longingly from my hotel window. I see I could take an example from some of the more modest Thai women and girls who are swimming fully clothed. But, I quickly decide that this is not an option. Not intending any disrespect or anything, but vanity demands an even colouring. As I watch them lounging about in the shimmering water, I wonder how my revealing black, back-less dress will look with a farmer’s tan.

I finally accept the bitter truth, going down to the beach in a mismatched swimsuit-like garment consisting of exercise shorts and a sports bra. To my relief I see I'm not alone. It appears several female tourists are in the boat and have also created their makeshift bikinis from mismatched undergarments. Many of them seem to have forgotten their tops altogether. I’m pretty sure they weren't purposely forgotten, since that would mean these women are ignoring a glaring <I>faux pas</I> warned against in the hotel brochures, tourist pamphlets, and in every guidebook. Look around at any of the area beaches in season: could it be that all these women boldly refuse to heed the message? No, surely some of them must be like me and have merely resigned themselves to these makeshift bathing garments for lack of any other option.

Now here I am teetering on the border between my obligations to cultural sensitivity on the one hand, and vanity on the other. If I may be completely honest, I would just as soon go topless with the rest of the them. I mean, it isn't as though I like them bouncing around and freely exposed like that. I am an American after all, so I was brought up knowing I could go to jail for such indecency. It is just, well, those annoying ugly lines and all. I mean, do I really want two bright white headlights hanging down from my pleasingly brown shoulders? It would really spoil the desired look of several great outfits I have with me.

Alas, cultural sensitivity and maybe the risk of a hefty fine temporarily win and I begin what turns out to be a very brief quest for a new best friend. With the will of a soldier I set off on my mission. The first attempt finds me sweating profusely behind a series of Patong vendors’ minute, curtained-off “dressing rooms”. Futile. Out of desperation I then let myself be carted around by tuk-tuk on the shopper's tour through a maze of stores with the quality and selection of K-mart clothing and sizes seemingly more suitable for my future children. I ride up the escalator in a major Phuket Town department store. At first I’m taken aback - so many people, so few customers. Where are all the shoppers? “Isn’t this supposed to be ‘season’?” I ask my patient partner.

The answer to the mysterious absence of shoppers would soon reveal itself.

Excitedly, I approach the women’s apparel section. I have hope. Swimming suits are draped generously from racks covering every available centimetre of floor space. One of several lingering saleswomen marches gallantly to my aid. The smiling Thai woman takes one look at me, another glance at my chest (which, as a reference point, would be considered perfectly average in my own country). Politely but firmly she tells me in heavily-accented English, “No size for you, sorry.” I turn back to look at the sea of swimming costumes, seemingly all styles and colors and sizes, and I feel sure she must have misunderstood my needs. I reply with a look of mild incredulity, “Nothing AT ALL?” Her whole manner says, “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.” I walk away feeling more Amazonian than my average body frame would suggest.

Perseverance not being my strongest suit, the mission ends abruptly so I may reflect on my newly acquired body image issues. However, some months later I am reassured that I am not alone on this one. It is a seemingly well-documented truth among loads of grumbling Western friends, both male and female. The complaints are divided, either finding nothing large enough or nothing small enough. It's as though the average sized-person—neither especially large Western body types nor the particularly petite Asian ones—has been completely overlooked by every shopkeeper in Phuket.

Such a situation seems illogical for me because, after all, this is the place to come for resorts and sand and sea and sun, not to mention a place where the authorities would prefer we would cover them up, so how could the choices of viable breast coverage be so lacking? Besides, there seems to be an endless variety of things to buy here. I see thick wool sweaters, African art, and endangered species. All the things I’ll never need on my beach vacation. The majority of goods, I assume, are meant for purchase by Westerners. But still, not an acceptable, average, Western-sized cup to be found anywhere.

Although the realization is not a comforting one, I'm happy that now my dilemma is solved. For lack of an alternative, vanity wins out over cultural sensitivity. Now, I'll have to work on educating the Thais regarding our precarious situation, which surely explains why so many of us are topless in Phuket.

Sigh. Another arduous task awaiting me, so I won't even start on shoes.