Donald Duckin’ It

When Kate McKinnon was abducted by aliens in a skit on SNL, those creepy creatures tore off her panties but not her shirt. Paints quite a picture, doesn’t it? The Great McKinnon running around with a top but no bottom, something we find more obscene than the other way around—on this planet anyway.

Kate called this bare-bottomed business “Donald Duckin’ it” and  while we got the joke, we knew that in real life going without your panties  could be quite embarrassing, perhaps even the butt of jokes.

Well, people, I myself, your intrepid blogger, came as close to “Donald Duckin’ ” it as I ever want to be. And no, it wasn’t funny.

Here’s my tale of woe:

First of all, like many women of a certain age, every bathing suit (if we even have one) is black. The idea being that it won’t call attention to your less-than-perfect, saggy-baggy body. But this year, I decided to turn that assumption on its head and do exactly the opposite: get a colorful patterned suit that will draw attention to IT and, therefore, away from ME.

Some would say that this is a dangerous gambit. A bright suit might do just the opposite: call attention to me and all my flaws. However, undaunted, I was determined to try out my theory. Anything for science, I always say. And I wanted to get to the bottom of this.

I looked online for a tankini—a two-piece suit with the smooth look of a one-piece (bikinis are but a fond memory), that allows you to hit the loo without struggling out of a wet and clingy garment and spend a few uneasy moments with the suit down around your ankles. And I did find this delightful tankini in colors too bright to go unnoticed, the perfect piece to try out my hypothesis.

But nothing in life (or scientific experimentation) is ever simple, and so the story doesn’t end here. The highly anticipated parcel arrived, but with only half of the suit, the top part. Donald Duck, are you listening? Are you rolling your eyes in sympathy? Or did you like your bare booty? We’ll never know. You are, after all, a pretty cheeky character.

Sigh. It seems that, although the site didn’t think to mention it, you have to order each part separately, even though it is advertised as “a tankini.” To me, this means TWO PIECES! Is that too much to ask, I ask! Apparently, the answer is “Yes.”

I eventually finally found a nice woman at Customer Service. Yes, Virginia, there is one. To find it you just have to have time and patience. And while I have neither, I was determined to get this damn bathing suit in all its two-piece glory. Turns out that yes, you have to purchase each part separately, even though that makes no sense to moi, but I did go ahead and order the “bikini” part (AKA the rest of the suit), negotiating a sale price on that, the least they could do for my bottom line. I did wonder, however, if it would arrive in time for summer.

Long ago, when I worked as a freelance writer for King Features Syndicate, I wrote a Scrooge McDuck comic. I remember that fondly, but back then I never noticed the loose caboose of McDuck and his mischievous nephews. (They are called Huey, Dewey and Louie, in case there is a quiz, and you never know.) Or the free fanny feature of Donald, for that matter! He is totally and completely without a covering on his lower extremities! Just as Kate McKinnon told us!

At some point, I did notice that while Paddington Bear had a whole cute colorful outfit, including a short coat, hat, and boots, but nothing below the coat. Luckily, it was just long enough to cover his Donald Duckitude. But didn’t anyone have the nerve to declare, “The Bear Has No Pants!”

Of course, I wouldn’t dare (or bear) to be seen at the pool without the bikini bottoms. Wonder if I would get arrested. Or molested. No matter. While visions of Donald Duck would make me hide out in the poolhouse, wonders, indeed, never cease, and I actually did get the damn panty part. 

So now I have an bathing suit in a VERY colorful pattern, and I am all set to test my premise, that people at the pool—most of whom are also pretty saggy-baggy themselves—will look at the suit— and not my imperfect but still curvy little self.

Maybe I better bring along a caftan, just in case.