Public Nudity

Seeing that David and Sosi's wedding is exactly one month away and being held in a land where people are tanned and beautiful (Puerto Rico), I decided a decisive course of action needed to be taken in regards to my skin shade.

Presently, I look like this:

And even though I try to stay away from the sun at all costs and wear 55 SPF for terror of premature wrinklage (not a word), I decided to take advantage of living near the ocean and gain some natural color recently. This post is about my initial attempt at becoming a bronze goddess at my local nude beach (it's called Haulover if you're ever interested in tanning that white pasty ass of yours and find yourself in my vicinity).

-------

Let's begin by dispeling all rumors and confirming that nude beaches are indeed, places of true civilization, where (most) humans go to roam free the way God intended. Some go because they have a deep rooted disdain for tan lines and are petrified of tanning beds (those things are like caskets full of lights, yo).

My first time at a nude beach was as eventful as a stapler sale on a Tuesday night. Not much to see (pun intended), except a bunch of old people gayly prancing around and splashing in the water. I felt comfortable, at ease with my own nakedness, and the sun was all mine for a day, so who was I to complain?

It'd been years since the last time I'd been tanning at some point in my early twenties and seeing that the only friend willing to bare it all with me now lives in Manhattan, I grabbed my towel and headed out on my own two weeks ago. Now I know this sounds ridiculous, but Haulover is a safe, happy place, where one can rest easy knowing they won't get raped by perverts or run into someone they know.

I tore off my sarong like Demi Moore does the robe in that scene from Striptease (shut up, you know what I'm talking about) and laid down on it. Five minutes later, I spotted an alien walking towards me (alien = young person). As it neared, I realized it was that of the male species, and was carrying a beach chair and newspaper with him. No sooner had I focused on his silhouette, that he opened his chair and plopped down on it, dick swinging and skin glistening in the sun.

Necessary sidenote: Nude beaches are infamous for the civilized manner in which people behave, so even though I wanted to bolt out of there in the presence of this stranger, I lay there quietly humming along to my ipod, as if everything was normal.

Everything would've been alright had he sat down to read in the buff facing the ocean and away from me but instead, he plopped down with his back to the water and directly facing me, the distance between us about three feet.

Within a matter of minutes, Naked Guy's ding dong went from limp to solid batting status, even if he seemed to be very entertained by his newspaper (I knew he was wearing sunglasses for a reason). The worst part of it all was that I felt so ridden with shame that I didn't dare turn around to face my white behind to him, so I had to lay there for an entire hour facing up, absorbing sun on the front part of my body only. Eventually, I wrapped my sarong awkwardly around myself and got up as gracefully as I could, seeing that Naked Boy was intent on staying there all day.

I retreated back to my car as nonchalantly as I could manage, but not before tripping on a branch and dropping my ipod in the sand.

Awkward.