Beach Baby

Ella and I have been to the beach a few times and each time I’m getting better at realizing/remembering what would make the excursions better.  For instance, last time we went to the beach her diaper got wet splashing in the ocean and it was, go figure, really sunny.  So, I decided next time I should bring a swim diaper and a sun hat.  Today, we got to the beach and I took inventory of all the items that were surely going to make our lives better: water cup with straw that folds into lid-check, water for me-check, snack for Ella-check, bubbles and beach toys-check, swim diaper-check, sun hat and sunscreen for reapplication-shit, on the kitchen table.  Next time I’ll do better.

There is one thing I NEVER do better and don’t actually think about until I’m at the beach and that is my own personal hygiene.  Now, usually all I have to worry about is whether or not I look like a free spirit going au natural in the underarm region, but today I decided to wear my bathing suit (read: take my pants off).  See, the past couple of times we’ve been to the beach it was February and it just seemed silly to put on a bathing suit. As you can imagine I panicked a little when it became quite obvious that I had not shaved my legs in well over a month.  Apparently, I hadn’t put lotion on in quite some time either because my skin had a grayish tint to it.  The picture running through my mind was that scene from the Sex in the City Movie when Miranda shows up in her bikini quite unkempt in the nether region.  Luckily, I’m not a hairy person and I’m physically incapable of looking like that but I definitely wondered. In the hour and a half that we spent on the beach there were quite a few rationalizations that I ran through as to why it was okay for me to stay and not immediately pack up and head out.  It went something like this:  First, I have the cutest leg covering in all of the world, seen here:

 Second, my legs are so pale they reflect light and you can’t actually look directly at them.  In my defense, it is the beginning of March so they have been covered for… well over a year.  You thought I was going to say all winter, but nope, I don’t think they’ve seen the sun since before Ella was born.  I accidentally captured a glimpse of the top of my thigh in a picture I took and it could easily be mistaken for the underbelly of a dolphin or the leg of a corpse, it had a blue-ish tint.  So sexy.  

 Third, as long as I just rub sand all over my legs you won’t be able to tell the difference between being sandy and being hairy, SUCCESS!  Note: this works best for blondes, unless you’re at a black sand beach. 

And finally I thought, I don’t know anyone in this town and when I do meet a friend that happened to be at the beach on this particular day, I will deny that it was me.  However, I will recall seeing the disgusting lady with the blinding thighs and adorable baby and will note how well prepared they seemed for the beach.

So we stayed, and Ella was by far the cutest thing on the beach; she left her sunglasses on the whole time and melted hearts all afternoon.  She is a serious chick magnet.  If you’re into old women, that is, and I totally am.  You never know what kind of baked goods you can get out of a relationship with an older woman.  But, seriously, we made friends with the elderly lady sitting on the beach next to us who looked like a wrinkled sack of leather.  I know that is harsh but I have no doubt that you are now getting an adequate picture of the kind of sun damage that was going on to the south of us.  Anyway, we talked about the usual stuff- Ella is a year, she’s not walking on her own, etc…then she told me that Ella was really pale and asked if I had put sunscreen on her.  WTF?  I know she was being sweet and concerned but really it was like the mascot for skin cancer was trying to teach me a lesson on the dangers of the sun. 

My notes for next time: remember to bring the sunhat and extra sunscreen, teach Ella stranger danger, and it seems like I’m forgetting something…