A little support here?

Now that summer has arrived, I find myself daydreaming about the BP oil spill, and wondering what it would take to initiate a similar disaster here on the Great Lakes.  And the smaller lakes.  And the city pool... OK, pretty much anywhere I might be required to don a bathing suit in public. Would a manmade ecological nightmare consisting of giant globules of tar floating in the water and washing ashore be excuse enough to tell my kids, "Sorry, no swimming this summer"?

And speaking of giant globules, let me rant a while about swimsuit manufacturers and their oh-so-flawed understanding of the female breast.  At least said breast(s) after the age of 20.  For the shrinking percentage of us who haven't had implants, that is. 

Breasts (mature, unenhanced, natural breasts), need support.

There, I have stated the obvious.  Now let me delve a little deeper.  (Stay with me swimsuit designers, here's where it gets interesting.)  Adequate support does not consist of a so-called "shelf bra," or an "extra panel," or even a flimsy underwire, especially when said underwire attaches to nothing more than a couple of ties that (is this a joke?) are supposed to tie around your neck.  Do you, swimsuit fashion elites, really expect me to lug a my breasts around for an entire day on a shoestring that is attached to my neck? 

Maybe I'm not shopping the right stores or catalogs.  Maybe I'm just not spending enough money.  (But $80 seems a ridiculous amount to spend on an "outfit" I detest.)  The only bathing suits that seem like they would do the trick up top are the skimpy two-pieces that look almost exactly like a colorful bra-and-panty set from Ms. Secret's.  Oh, they're cute.  But in providing reasonable bosom support, they overlook the fact that the rest of my body needs, shall we call it "special consideration," as well?  Perhaps I could wear a bikini-coverup combo on the tacit understanding that the coverup never comes off.

Or I could dive right into the skirted, blousy numbers intended for the grandma set.  (Not that either of the grandmas in my family would be caught dead in half of them.)  Really, these are my two choices at this stage in life.  I can either put more of my jiggly bits on unsupported display than I feel remotely comfortable with... or I can gratefully sink into several yards of floral flouncing designed to disguise my every human appendage.

In summary, swimwear manufacturers, the bathing suits you design are made for teenaged water nymps or water buffalo.  (No offense to wildlife intended.)  They make manmade natural disasters like the BP oil spill seem like attractive alternatives.  Can't you come up with something supportive, modest, attractive and just a little on the sly side when it comes to my imperfections?