Ground rules for Buddha and bikinis

Is it harder to choose a bathing suit or a religion?

I spent last Sunday afternoon comparing and contrasting the major brands of both, and I'm here to tell you, it's harder to find a bathing suit that fits you than it is a religion.

In the time-honored spring tradition of aging women, I spent several humiliating hours parading half-naked in front of three-way mirrors and fluorescent lights. I haven't bought a bathing suit in more than three years, so I was disappointed to learn that despite the much-heralded advances in tummy technology, none of the "control" panels could reduce the size of my abdomen by any more than thickness of a single potato chip.

I also discovered that there's no place to put a floppy middle-aged bosom in any of the cute suits. You can shove it to the sides, where it spills out under your armpits, making you look like you have a double bout of goiters. Or you can push it up and towards the front for the Anna Nicole Smith effect - only in my case, the cleavage is ghostly white and has blue veins in it, sort of like a cross between Anna Nicole and her late husband.

After giving up on flattering and settling for least offensive, I headed home only to discover that while bathing suit decisions have become harder and harder, choosing a religion is getting easier every day.

While I was in the dressing room struggling with three ounces of lycra, my 13-year-old daughter was on the couch comparison shopping for a faith.

Thanks to Wheel O' Wisdom (www.knockknock.biz), judging the almighties is now as simple as quick spin of a cardboard wheel.

The eight-inch "Choose Your Religion" spinner consists of two printed cardstock wheels joined together in the center by a stainless steel grommet, allowing you to rotate the top wheel and view the perks, drawbacks, afterlife promises and accessories for 30 of the major faiths. It also provides a brief description of each religion and shows you how many "potential new friends" you'll have if you sign up.

Thinking about Shintoism? You won't have to worry about attending regular services, but on the downside, there's "an ever present responsibility to uphold the ancestral honor."

Want to worship at the altar of Consumerism? You'll be disappointed to learn that "credit overuse begets spiritual bankruptcy," but the good news is, you have 912,868,813 new friends to join you at the church of debt.

The handy "Guide for the Savvy Convert" allows you to "base your religious choices on the things that really matter - what you'll wear, whether you can have sex and where you go when you die."

My daughter and I were disappointed to learn that our faith, Unitarian Universalism, has fewer followers than Voodism. But on the plus, side we've got better paraphernalia than the Snake Handlers.

But the real question is: If we can sound byte religion for the masses, why can't we make choosing a bathing suit just as simple?

I think we can. So, in the interest of spiritual development and being comfortable by the pool, here are my five guidelines for choosing a bathing suit - or a religion:

1. Comparison shop. What looked good on you as kid or what works for your neighbor isn't necessarily the best style for you.

2. Don't settle for hand-me downs. Just because your mother picked it out for your sister 25 years ago doesn't mean you have to wear it.

3. Choose a manufacturer that incorporates women in the design team. Products created solely by men often fail to provide the support a woman really needs.

4. Even if your husband thinks it's a great fit, you don't have to take it home.

5. Shifting around a bit is OK, but if it contorts your innards into an uncomfortable position, it will only become more painful and binding with time.

Snellville resident Lisa Earle McLeod is a nationally recognized speaker and the author of "Forget Perfect: Finding Joy, Meaning, and Satisfaction in the Life You've Already Got and the YOU You Already Are." She has been seen on "Good Morning America" and featured in Lifetime, Glamour and The New York Times. Contact her at www.ForgetPerfect.com.