'The BirthdaySuit™' by Wendy Booth
Amid a cherry-scented cloud, Chantal patted every inch of her body with Deodorising BirthdaySuit™ Powder. Already regretting the second tiramisu, she knew this would be a squeeze. Inside-out, on her wardrobe door hung the second skin which had become less fashion item, more part of her.
Since their inception, these breathable rubber skins had evolved to give customers the taut, twenty-something body they craved. Few would consider their summer wardrobe before donning a BirthdaySuit™. But, in winter, the unexpected advantage of a BirthdaySuit™ was its insulating quality. Many wore short skirts, baring their year-round tans and partied in strappy tops with no need for coats.
Hitching the suit up over her puckered behind, Chantal glimpsed the reflection of her now smooth round bottom and smiled. For a lady of her age, she was generally blessed with curves in the right places. However, now, women (men-shaped BirthdaySuits™ were still being prototyped) worldwide were squeezing into BirthdaySuits™ tailor-made to give them a sleek, shapely, blemish-free (optional) body. Chantal admired the custom-made birthmark on the suit’s left hip and the smattering of freckles on the shoulders, replicating her own imperfections. This Blemish Technology was one of the latest improvements resulting in her buying this model, last year. Recently, the market had shifted from celebrities and the super vain to the girl-on-the-street, following enhancements making it more practical for the trials of daily life.
The first major iteration included orifice vents, which allowed bodily functions without removing the suit. Next came the seam-free model, making the join with the wearer’s neck almost undetectable. Of course, the apparent youthful body juxtaposed with an aging face could easily cause confusion or even anger. The expression of horror on a young man’s face was something most BirthdaySuit™ wearers became so accustomed to, they were virtually oblivious.
As she hauled the thing up over her square shoulders Chantal wondered if she had grown taller overnight. She dragged in half lungfuls of air and vowed to lose some weight. The transformation was complete – this was usually when the dizziness hit. Her sister had cracked a rib squeezing into her suit and a friend had actually passed out - while driving.
She zipped her pencil-skirt and remembered the pre BirthdaySuit™ days, when her children were small. Muffin-tops and roll-over-bellies were almost fashion statements. She pined for those all hanging out days. Surely, there must still be places in the world where beaches welcomed cellulite celebrating, batwing bobbing, flab flaunting ladies in bikinis happy in their own skins?
As she scissored downstairs, another load of junk mail hit the doormat. A leaflet caught her eye. Chantal inched her way to the floor, avoiding stretching this model’s weak spot. Vital as orifice vents were, a harsh tug could cause immediate and embarrassing damage.
Barely room to breathe, she snatched the leaflet between her fingers and stood again, caught her breath and read the bold script.
Fresh blossom fragrance. Even smaller waist. New mahogany shade.