It really does warm the cockles of my little heart that swimsuit designers are trying to give those of us more than 90 pounds something presentable to wear. It’s not working, but it’s a nice gesture.

I will concede that certain styles will flatter certain body types more than others, but flattery is one thing. Looking good enough to take off the caftan is very much another. I first got my knickers in a knot when I went browsing the Internet looking at bathing costumes of the 1900s. Whatever possessed those women to give up those fabulous, cover-it-all suits? The style then had loose, knee-length bottoms and blousy tunic tops. Sure, maybe we could do without the sleeves and collars but basically, I think they were perfect for all of us who have left 25-and-firm far behind us.

This catalog sitting in front of me is nothing but frustration. As you go down the page, there are a dozen styles that will allegedly minimize the waist and the hips or minimize the bust and the hips or some other combination. The tricky word here is “minimize.” When I put on a swimsuit, I want more than promises to minimize. I want to hear “rearrange” or “completely hide.” If I could swim in a burqa without drowning, I’d give it serious consideration.

Oh, you may ask, what about those “miracle” suits that make spandex your best friend? You know, the ones that claim to make you look 10 pounds thinner the minute you put them on. I put one on. My back fat was just as flabby. My thighs still pooched out like runaway bathtub caulking. My belly remained far, far less than washboard flat, and yet I felt unable to breath. If 10 pounds disappeared, it must have come from my elbows and earlobes. Everything else looked pretty much the same. Apparently I will have to wait for the more-than-a-miracle suit that will do away with 20 pounds and somehow camouflage cellulite and broken veins.

I suspect I will get swifter results by continuing to lobby for the comeback of those turn-of-the-last century swimsuits.

Ladies, I know we “normal” types outnumber the bevy of flawless hard bodies out there. They can wear any suit. It’s time to rise up and demand some coverage again. We’re not supposed to get any sun on our fragile epidermis anyway, so bring it on. Bring the front up to my collarbone. Break out the flash-dry materials we now have and give me pants to my knees or a lovely, high-waisted, wispy skirt. Let me enjoy the beach without having to hold my breath or being afraid to bend over.

I am telling any designers who will listen, there is a baby-boomer market out there just waiting to be tapped. The great majority of us are never going to get back that “smokin’ hot body I had in college” they talk about in the weight-loss ads. Most of us never had it to begin with. Add children, gravity and a distaste for strenuous exercise and we are a retro cover-up slam dunk.

Less really isn’t more. We are not going to enter the Mrs. America contest. We are not trying to catch the boy-next-door’s eye. Think comfort. Think coverage. Think of the endless gratitude.