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I bought a new bathing suit yesterday. I own two currently. Any Northerner reading this is now thinking that is a reasonable amount of swimsuits to own. But I actually ~just~ stopped short of buying two more. And this week I am having the boi drive me to a local shop I found online for more suit shopping.
So why the wardrobe change? We appear to have fallen into the pattern of spending all the boi's days off at the beach. He's been going about the place muttering and grumbling and babbling about the "bloody canadiadian (*note* that is not a typo...That's how he says it. Try to picture Homer Simpson saying "tramampoline" and "saxamophone" and you've about got it.)ruining my perfectly functional gothboi moontan"
So yeah...i am apparently turning us into beach bums. Actually...I'm not sure why ~I~ am shouldering all the blame on this one, really. Seems to me like i can recall most beach days begin with him bouncing on the bed, whining about missing half the day and poking and prodding and pulling at me til i get up and stumble to the shower. And he seems to also be the one who packs the towels and such and bundles me into the car. Least he has the sense to make a pitstop and ply me with coffee and chocolate. That almost makes up for the loss of the bed/snuggles.
I'm managing now to keep seawater consumption down to a cup or two - as opposed to half the bloody ocean. But i'm still hopeless in the waves. On Thursday there was this adorable little teensy pixie child, about 5, and all of 3 foot nothing, with long dreadie hair, draging a runt-sized boogie board behind her who did a wide arching 360 walk all aound us, staring open mouthed at me, obviously unable to process the fact that she, at all of 30 pounds, could amble about in the water nonchalantly, while I, a grown woman, was standing knee deep in the sea, giggling like a feind, and being knocked clear off my feet with each wave...and being babysat by a boi who looked nothing short of amused.
The waves might get the better of me still...but I so own this whole sunbathing thing. Flop out on the blankie, perve on the hotties, giggle at the antics of the kids, snuggle up to the boiflesh, or close eyes and drift off. Heavenly. Amusing, also, how my arctic skin is not the stuff getting fried to a bright pink.
We have, however, made a mental note that, when returning to the beach at night for nefarious purposes, it is necessary to overcome our exhibitionist tendencies (who knew?!*shrugs), and move further away from the couple whom we might think are far enough away that they could not see anything illicit that we may or may not be doing (and may or may not have succeeded at even). We were amused after to find that the couple had totally disappeared without us noticing (it's possible we were distracted by whatever may or may not have taken place). Giggling as we made out way back to the car, we were brushing away sand (it gets EVERYWHERE), and repacking the car when the police arrived. Parking in front of us, they stopped to install a strobe light and speaker on the roof of the truck before proceeding to drive right out onto the beach...exactly where our blanket had been parked just a few short moments previously. Close call. It should also be noted that if I am arrested, my ass gets deported. Oops.
It would have been worth it though. For the mad giggles. For the adrenaline rush. For the full moon and sound of crashing waves. For the look on the boi's face when he discovered I planned the whole thing. And for the shagging that may or may not have occurred.
