Two days until I will be living it up in Hawaii! I can hardly wait to get back to the beach. I can smell the surf and feel the sand between my toes.
The waves are calling, "Everyone weighs less in the water".
I am sitting here in my new bathing suit and fabulous matching cover-up. So, the halter top pulls slightly on the back of my neck. So what? This is the second suit, same as the first, in a larger size, that I've had shipped to me this week. I don't have time to order yet another one. I should have gone with the long torso suit. Every time I do, though, the crotch hangs down. I'd rather have a crick in my neck than an exposed crotch. It wouldn't be decent (I'm an outie). Plus, I would be over-exposed, if you know what I mean. I didn't go for the bikini wax, but I did do some major remodeling -- I may have gotten a little carried away with the electric razor. (Shhh, don't tell my husband; I'm not supposed to use his beard trimmer).
I do wish I had done the spray-on tan thing. I am so white. I am beyond white. I am white on white. I'd rub on some instant tanning lotion if I could do it without turning my hands seven shades of sienna, while the rest of me is merely transformed to a shade of sickly- ecru. I've just never had any luck with fake tan. It is funny how I spend a fortune on products that protect my skin from the sun, but one week out of every year I spend a much larger chunk of change to travel somewhere that I can purposely damage it. It makes no sense. Really darling, I don't care about making sense when it comes to my island vacation. All I care about is reveling in the sand, sea, sun and mai tais.
So, picture me: catching a wave, on my surf board, in my sexy new bathing suit, while holding a perfectly balanced, umbrella drink in my hand. I'll be the extraordinarily hot, white chick with the hunchback, and all of her bits and pieces tidily covered.
May peace and a strong sense of style be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.