Summer's last hurrah

My kids are back to school today and I'm a little sad because I wasn't quite finished with summer. In an effort to close summer break with a bang, we headed to the beach on Saturday. When we arrived, parking was a beast. We eventually got a spot, but I had to be at my sneaky best to make it happen. This was probably the first indicator that "things" were not going my way.


The second sign came after we had lubed the kids with sunscreen and sent them off to play. I sat back in my chair and breathed deeply of the salty ocean breeze. As the fragrance-laden air filled my lungs I put my arms behind my head and relaxed. I took in the crisp blue sky, the crashing waves, the myriad assortment of people around me, and let go of my thoughts.

The family next to me was setting up their spot in the sand and as I turned my head to watch them I nearly screamed. What could yank me from the cusp of relaxation? I caught sight of my underarms. Apparently I'd taken pains to ensure freshly-shaved legs, and neglected another critical area. Fabulous. In addition to driving a minivan, having stretch marks, and being 15 pounds heavier than I was in my 20's, I can now add questionable personal hygiene -- in public-- to the list of things that would never happen to me.

I quickly pressed my arms to my body and decided it was time to go play in the surf. After all, if you're up to your neck in water no one can asess the status of your armpits, right? I headed for the waves and was pleasantly surprised. Wrightsville Beach has been experiencing abnormally high surf and the waves were huge. My family played together for awhile, but I was secretly happy when they left to get some watermelon...

I must have been body surfing for half an hour when I mis-timed a wave and got my ass handed to me on a silver platter. Sometimes when you're getting rolled by a wave you literally don't know which end is up. I briefly felt my legs kicking spastically to propel me to the surface... and yet had the odd sensation that my feet were actually above the surface. Right about the time I figured out that up was really down I had two more realizations: 1) The water was pulling me insistently in warning that I was about to get slammed again, and 2) I was about to lose the bottom of my bathing suit.

Sure enough, the second wave hit and the next thing I knew I was scrambling my half-naked self into a standing position. As I righted myself, I frantically scanned the surface for my bathing suit bottom. I debated whether to enlist the help of the swimmers around me. I chose to share my predicament when I contemplated making the half-naked walk of shame all the way to our beach area.

The people around me were kind enough not to ask questions, and immediately began scanning the frothy waves for my black bathing suit. Luck was on my side as one of the surfers near me spotted my suit and yelled to his friend at the top of his lungs, "Dude! Mike! Grab those pants! Those black things... Dude!! The lady lost her pants!"

Thanks for sharing. Now the entire beach knows that I've lost my pants. My humiliation is complete.

Fortunately, my bathing suit bottoms were recovered. Luckily, I remained chest deep in churning ocean water through the entire ordeal and was able to re-suit myself without exposing myself.

And I don't think anyone noticed my armpits either.

Double bonus.