The germ freak inside....

          I should begin with a brief history. My father comes from a family that implanted the fear of germs into their heads. If this is what you grow up with, many things can seem gross and washing your hands a lot might be the least of your cleaning issues. My mother on the other hand, came from a household of the opposite mind.
          The example that best describes it is this: Whilst my mother finished up her last semester in college, my father lived with her parents. He really didn't want my grandmother making him lunch everyday (even if he couldn't cook a bit), because she and my grandfather were being so good to him. So at some point in the first two weeks he decided it was time to start making some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Oooo yeah! This my friends is quite a sacrifice, I will tell you. However this is not about my dad being a fair man. He got all the ingredients (so many there were, heh), but could not find the jelly. He asked my grandmother. She grabbed it out of the fridge. He opened it and at once noticed the mold. Almost as soon as he started the sentence ("Ummmm, there's some mold on this..."), my grandmother grabbed the jar. She said, "Let me see that." Then she got a knife, scraped it out, and promptly handed it back to him, saying, "There you go, good as new!" My father left horrified with nothing to do but eat it out of pure politeness. And probably avoid all peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in that house for a while.
          All my life I have had a mix of these two things. It is a good balance. I have however not gone untouched by the 'germ crazy'. I am definitely not a moldy food eater. It is a categorical fact that I wash my hands much too often. And what goes on in my head concerning germs is the most embarrassing and ridiculous germ crazy of all. That is what this is about.
          I was with my boyfriend on the beach the other night taking photos. I decided just to enjoy the fresh air, the sound of the waves, and watching his cute ass take photos from time to time (instead of taking any photos of my own). We did have to find a good spot to put his camera on first. He was playing with light and time for these specific photos. From this spot though what he would really need is a tripod. Neither of us has one. What he decided on was a garbage can. Great.
          He has no germs issues. In fact, when I am out and about and can not wash my hands, I don't worry about germs either. Okay it might cross my mind, but then it's gone. I think that's just a survival skill I've learned over years of public transport, planes, just living life. But then as I watched him set up my attention was monopolized, not by the sea, the sand or even his cute patootie.... but by the garbage can and the amount of it that was coming in contact with my boyfriend's clothes and hands. It's making me cringe now... a week later. Eeeek.
          I tried (repeatedly) to reason with myself. It's okay. No problem. I'm not touching it. But the other thoughts came in. And these thoughts are the killers. I can't even believe I'm sharing them. They go as follows..... 
           He will sit on the couch when we get home at some point. The couch I share with him. Will he wash his hands before making dinner? Is he going to touch my face when he kisses me? When he hugs me all my clothes will get garbageness on them. And so on.
           A bit irrational? Yes. Extreme? I would say so. So I kept telling myself, 'Just don't say anything when you get inside. Get over it . 'Noooo, problem. Right? All I had to do was use the tried and true method of mind over matter.... right? Right. 
          Is this what I did? Well, I tried. Vigorously. In my mind. But the nagging, no, gnawing, growing stress of the gross out factor and spreading of the germs all over the house overwhelmed me.
          I think what pushed me over the edge was when my sweet boyfriend came over and gave me a hug and kiss (with hands on face, by the way). What's worse, he was making sure I wasn't bored or too alone. He was being thoughtful and loving. I knew that. Nevertheless, all I could think about was the germs. Clearly I have a problem.
          Sadly, I didn't even make it the 2 minute walk home before I told him to make sure to wash his hands before making dinner. I did point out that I knew I was nuts. He agreed. I changed my outer layer of clothes when we got home. Luckily he did too, he favors pajamas at night... YAY for me! (Was that too enthusiastic?)
          My point? I don't remember. However, if you have anything strange and pervasive that invades your thoughts.... work on it. I'm still trying. Still I do think I will forever avoid moldy food. Just sayin'.

kimbersfrog
          

         
         

Cuddling- what you don't see in the movies....

          There are so many things that happen in relationships. The good, the bad, the sex (heh,heh) and the funny! The funny is what I'm talking about today. Oh, don't winge about it, I know you were hoping for the sex!
          If any of you out there watch cheesy movies (or have been forced to by your significant others), you have seen many cuddly moments. Cuddle moments are sweet. Both people look happy. They look completely comfortable, in all ways. There have been times that I secretly and embarrassingly have hoped for moments like these. Shut it!
          The things I never noticed until recently, is that no one ever talks about that part of their relationship. Maybe they don't think it's funny. I however do. Shocker. I recently have experienced a few of these moments. I would like to share.
          First I will go with spooning. As wonderful as spooning is for a short time, it can be uncomfortable for a longer period of time. That is not the funny part. There are several things that can become unseemly during this special time. And they have!
          One: If the person being spooned (the inside) farts. It was a surprise fart, what could I do? 
          Two: If the spooner (person in back) sweetly puts his arm around you and rests his hand on your stomach, you should be sure you don't have indigestion. The sounds your stomach were making (that you were hoping he wouldn't notice), now they are definitely noticed. And felt.
           Now I will move away from the bed. Cuddling on the couch whilst reading or watching t.v. seems so lovely doesn't it? But before we even worry about comfort, let's think about logistics. We have hurdles to cross.
           We have the length and width of the couch to contend with. Is there an ottoman, coffee table, two small tables, or nothing in front of the couch? Or are there only two love seats? As I cannot speak for anyone else I will just speak for me. I will also make this the last example, because it should be the focus. It's awesome.
           Our couch is of average length but very wide (which I very much enjoy). We have two small tables in front of the couch. That is the set up. The odd part is that although the couch is average length, it only has two cushions. If either of us want to sit straight up we need to sit smack in the middle of a cushion. If we don't mind sitting on an angle, slowly sliding into the crack.... well then we can sit closer to the other person.
          Sometimes I sit a little closer. And as a result crooked. I have done this more recently as it has gotten chillier and sharing body heat is always nice (for many reasons, heh). A week or so ago, I decided to put my head on my sexy man's lap. It just seemed natural. And honestly, my arm was in danger of falling asleep, in addition to a small pain in my cheek from lovingly leaning on his shoulder. (I am also pretty sure he was not overly comfortable in that position either, but was too nice to say so.)
          So there my head lays. His hand naturally resting alternately on my head and waist, gently. Just like a movie. Humffff. Then it started. Apparently his stomach makes noises like mine does when spooning. The big difference being that when your ear is right up against it, it is as if you are listening with your ear attached to a giant speaker. Vibrations and everything. I stuck with it though, his hand on my waist was so sweet . Then I noticed something else.
          First I noticed he was shifting a little here and there as if my head might have the weight of the entire earth to it. It's possible I come from a large headed family. Or maybe just one piece of my head was pointy and stabbing his leg. Or possibly my head was heating his nether regions to point in which he felt like they had been stuck in a sauna- but not in a good way. I have no way of knowing. Also I realized I could only see the edges of the t.v. screen and two feet. I like my boyfriend's feet don't get me wrong, but I need the English subtitles when I can't understand something that is said in Spanish. This occurs about half the time now. Sad but true.
          So there you have it. The unfortunate drawbacks of cuddling. There are so many more, yet I am sure to try again in different ways. And there are some cuddling moments that have been perfect. They however are not at all funny, but sweet, personal and comfortable. I am sure some of you can relate. If you would like to share, I would truly enjoy a story or two, if not I hope you get a laugh from mine!

kimbersfrog


   I must apologize for my lack of writing.... I am working on my new schedule.... be patient. Please.

It's not all bad....

          Truly. It's not. Good things remain even when you're flat broke. Everyone is a heartbeat away from being worse off than they currently are. What? Am I wrong? Well, then, shut it! Heh, heh. The trick is to look at the good things. Search them out if you must. I heard they like to hide (or so it seems).
          I, in no way, am implying that anyone should ignore the problems at hand. But I do believe that sometimes if we notice the good things we have, it makes it a lot easier to cope with the giant landfill of problems we have awaiting us... RIGHT NOW!
          I try not just to notice the good things, but really feel them. Otherwise they are just 'nice'. Not helpful. And by the way, this is not easy. A long time ago, I decided I did not like feeling depressed, and slowly I learned how to drag myself out of it, or keep myself from falling into it (depending on when I noticed, I am not always quick nor am I perfect. Surprised you right?!). I wish I could say there was an easy formula, and that it worked every time for everybody. But one, that would be a bold face lie (however if you believed me, I have a bridge to sell you.....). Two, everyone is different so it would have to change a little or a lot for everyone. For some, what works for me would be the antithesis of what would work for them. Three, even if it usually works, it won't always. We are human. I am human. But hey, if you come up with a cure all- call me, maybe I'll buy your bridge!
          I have veered slightly, so let me get back on track. Being strapped for cash is not fun. True enough. Especially when the economy is having a big ass snort laugh right in your face. Just sayin'. It's harder yet when there are two of you to worry about. I won't get into all the different worries, but there are many. And yes it makes everything hard. And the ease in which anyone could fall emotionally into oblivion is astounding. Almost tempting for some.
          However, some of these worries I have been through before. Those, for me, are the easy ones (well, at least as painless as baking brownies in an easy bake oven! hee,hee). Those are the ones I know how to navigate. The others not so much. Luckily some of the others can be put at bay. Not all though. And I am not an island. Now I worry about not just me and my situation, but also my man and our situation. It matters not that he is a grown man and can handle himself. We are a team, and I have his back. And he's got mine.
          Consequently, one of my coping skills is noticing those small things. You know what I mean, the sound of the ocean against the rocks at night once the traffic has stopped. The small moment of sun on a stormy day. Siestas!!!! Amazing home cooked meals (okay, my boyfriend is a magician in the kitchen), and home cooked meals can taste wonderful AND save money. Bonus! Even the things as small as being able to wear the pair of socks I really want to wear on the day I want to wear them (as opposed to having to wait a day because they are dirty). What I love socks!
          Yes, some of these sound cheesy. And some sound silly. Even so, they are all true. I could name many more but to do so would be pointless. Everyone has their own. I will say however that one of my favourites is the way my boyfriend makes me laugh. Yeah, yeah.... I am not looking for a sigh or smile here, it's just what works for me.
          And remember, your situation, mine, everyone's..... can always be worse than it is now. So freakin' enjoy what you can while it lasts! Sorry, had to do it.

Laugh, love, and smile damn it!

kimbersfrog 

There are times, that I am inappropriate.....

         Yes at times I can be, well a little inappropriate. And that, my friends might be an understatement. Don't get me wrong, I can be very polite even charming at times (although usually through humour or awkwardness). And there are plenty of occasions in which I am correctly connected to the situation I am in (I know it's shocking!). Those of you who know me can probably agree. Or not.
          I am only going to write about one of these improper behaviours. It follows me to this day. When I am with my family, it seems to work out just fine, because they are equally inept at controlling themselves in these situations. However, placing a friend in a situation like this with me, is not a good thing. Even, if I warn them ahead of time. The end result is generally a promise to never return with me again. Fair enough.
           I will start at the beginning. When my sister and I were young we periodically visited my father's mother on our own. Only a few times. On those occasions, she brought us to church. I was 5, my sister was about 3 and 1/2. And we didn't know anything about church at the time.
          We were asked to pretend we were singing and to be very quite. We tried. We were actually fairly successful. However a lot of nudging went on about those fruit basket hats the women were wearing. I mean really, how a hat that nests a bunch of plastic fruit (that by the way appears to be old dried or dead fruit) in it equals their love of god and all things sacred, I will never know. But back then, all I thought was they looked funny. My sister too.
          We were however, very quietly giggling and nudging each other. We really didn't want to make my grandmother angry. That was never a good thing. We managed quite well, until the singing started. Then everybody got up and then down on their knees. And again. And again. All throughout the song. Many of you know what I am talking about. As a kid, who had no idea what it was about, nor anyone who would explain it... well, we thought it was hysterical. All those weird hats, voices singing that were bad, good and all over the place, creaking chairs and weird ups and downs.... it was too much for us. Needless to say, we were reprimanded.
          Flash forward. I am an adult now. I had no idea I have a problem. I don't think it even crossed my mind that I would giggle. Really, being a child giggling uncontrollably in church due to lack of understanding is completely acceptable. Why would I ever think it would happen as an adult?
           I will skip all the little ones that are not as entertaining. The brief episodes of stifled giggles, as an adult that should have clued me in to the fact that I might have a problem. You might think it is because I am not religious. Maybe that I am purposely being disrespectful. This is actually not the case. I am not traditionally religious, but I do have very strong beliefs. I also am very envious of those who have a religion that they can fully believe in. I wish I could find one. I have not yet. I am however truly happy for those who have.
           Back to the story. The next big blooper was in Edinburgh, Scotland. I enjoy live choir music on the holidays. I rarely go and see it, as you might imagine. A friend of mine suggested a few of us go on Christmas Eve to listen to some. There was a really old church that had Christmas choirs several times a day the entire week before Christmas. Apparently it sounded amazing in this church. So we went. I warned my friends of my... condition. They ignored me. Fools. (I love you all)
           I was able to not laugh at the fruit hats. I thought that bode well! Although I did wonder if the people I saw when I was a kid were still wearing theirs. It was truly beautiful. Then the organ. Amazing sound. The choir was up in the front (we couldn't see them because we were all the way in the back). They started some low level music with just their voices. Harmony if you will. Beautiful. Then, a man (I have no idea what station in the church he was or wasn't) all in white stepped to the back of the aisle, even with us. He was giant. Truly GIANT. And skinny. All this was accentuated by his long bright white robe, and long skinny face. Then without looking at anyone but the choir ahead....a loud, deep voice let out a very long note. It carried from the back of the church to the front and back again. And it was almost hollow, yet somehow robust. And I don't know, but for some reason it struck me funny! Of course.
          Was it the bright white mixed with the dark interior of the church? The tininess of the man mixed with his grandiose stance and huge voice? Maybe it was the deepness of the voice that shocked you yet soothed you at the same time. I don't know. But it was enough to make me giggle. I was trying to be good though. So, I silently bowed my head to hide my cheeky smile and tried to contain my laughing fit to simple shoulder shaking. Even that, I was able to somewhat control. There was no constant shoulder shaking. Then I managed to quell the amusement, and regain control of myself. I was quite impressed with myself. For a while.
          Then came the group singing. I don't truly know what was wrong with me, but I didn't expect this. Apparently I had a stupid attack. So we're singing along quietly. The ladies with the hats too. I'm doing fine. Shocking right. Until my friend starts switching keys. Whenever he couldn't hit a note, he'd switch to a lower register so he wouldn't go off key, and visa versa. This... struck me as funny. It might strike you as funny too if you knew him. So then the shoulder shaking and tittering began. Sporadically controlled. Then the tall man's voice came again. Harder to control.
           This is about the time I noticed I had infected one of my friends with my amusement. Poor girl. She had noticed. She is a sweet girl and quick to smile and laugh. Unfortunately for her, she noticed my barely contained chuckling. And now another friend shot us both a look. Of course this made it funnier. Very mature.
           Low and behold, now another of us was laughing. So the singer and the shooter of the looks were not amused, but the rest of us were losing our ability to be in control of ourselves. Now in all fairness, everyone else was able to get themselves in control better than me. I know, you're surprised right?! Oh, no, you're not? Well, no worries. Heh, heh.
           Unfortunately for them, I kept starting right back up again. I wasn't trying, in fact quite the opposite. That just made it worse. Needless to say, by the end my stomach hurt from trying to contain myself, I had tear marks, and sparkling giant eyes of amusement mixed with fear! When we got outside, all my friends swore they would never go to church with me ever again. I wouldn't either if I were them.
           Now, I only go for weddings and funerals. The last two weddings I was at were with my immediate family. The difference is vast. My sister and parents and I all have this problem. Usually, it has more to do with things we ourselves are doing than what is going on around us. Still, it is completely inappropriate. And though I may be embarrassing myself, at least I am doing it with people who are embarrassing themselves of their own accord.


So I apologize for making my friends laugh in church. (But it was weirdly funny) And to all the church goers I truly mean no disrespect. I am not perfect and that's all there is to it.

kimbersfrog

Heh,heh. You can't be pretty all the time...

          I'll start by saying, my mother HATES it when she has to take photos of me. Or maybe I should say the results of those photos. And in all fairness, she can't get a good photo. I always have some weird, funny, and usually ugly or at least scary expression on my face. I am uncomfortable with photo taking. But even when I am caught unaware, somehow I manage to put Jim Carey to shame! I will show you a couple examples:

 As you can tell these are pretty bad. They are not the absolute worst but I can not find those at the moment. I think these will suffice.


          Now during these moments, I have no idea how ridiculous, scary, ugly and/or funny I look. This is probably good. My face is expressive, what can I say! I think my parents put it best when they said they didn't actually have to watch the movie if I was in the room. They could just watch my face and they would know what was happening.
          I am lucky in some ways. I don't tend to spend much time worrying about how I appear to others, especially when it comes to being pretty or not. In fact I think that can be a hindrance to people really knowing who you are. That aside, I have finally found a man who loves and likes me for my odd, normal, crazy, strange, opinionated, etc. personality. Not what I look like. This is a whole new thing for me. Even better, I love him back! The lucky part, is he thinks (as deluded as he may be- remember I am only a year away from 40), that I am beautiful! I let him believe!
           It's amazing really. Men can say, 'You're pretty.' or 'You're beautiful.' It might feel nice briefly, but if it doesn't feel like they mean it, or it feels like it might be for their benefit (how polite was that?!), it falls a bit flat. Sometimes it just feels like they are saying out of habit or obligation, I'm not sure if that's worse or better, but my heart sure didn't sing zippity-doo-dah! Now I have someone who really truly believes it, and I can feel it. That is a whole new world. I didn't know it existed. I didn't know I wanted it. Apparently I do. Weird right. This does apply to the point, don't worry. I haven't lost the plot yet!
          My boyfriend is also a brilliant photographer. He has taken photos all over the world. Portraits, exotic wildlife, and places that are so beautiful the photo can actually make you skip a breath. Recently he has decided to take a few photos of me. Apparently he is one of the very few who is capable of taking good photos of me. My mother is very happy, as I have sent a couple to her! But DO NOT FEAR, my adroit skills for ruining photos have remained fully in tact. Yes, I can even foil the talented, creative, steady hand of a real photographer. Here are a couple of those:

          We took pictures a couple days ago at the beach (not just of me- that would have been BOR-ING!).  When we got home, I started doing the dishes (so my man can make yet another magical creation for dinner). All of the sudden I hear raucous laughter from the other room. The T.V. was not on, no music, I could not hear anyone outside... I wasn't sure what was up. I looked over. There he was on the computer. Immediately I knew. The photos were now on the computer. Something was hysterically funny. My guess... me.
          Now, I can't imagine what it is. We've laughed at other funny pics of me before. But this was particularly strong laughter. Then he calls to me, "Baby, come here, you have to see this!" Oh boy. It must be good, scary, ugly AND funny! Just a guess.
          It was. All of those things. What's even scarier is it was not a face that I purposely made. It was one of those 'in-between expressions' faces. So I might do it all the time. There were other funny ones, but they were mock faces. On purpose. My next thought: Facebook. He seems to like to put his least flattering photos of me on facebook. I don't mind, but I just wonder why. So I asked, "Is this going on facebook?" The look said it before he did. Yes. Great. At the same time, I'm kind of happy about it. It is funny!
          Then I asked him why he very rarely put good photos up of me. His response was genuinely interesting. He said anyone could see a beautiful or pretty photo of me. But that part of what made me special (especially to him), was that I made funny faces, weird faces, scary faces, and yes... ugly faces. He said there are many other beautiful women who are beautiful all day. What they are missing is the humour and dorkiness of expressions in their faces (I'm paraphrasing here- but you get the idea). So, I of course made a face- old habits die hard!
          Later, we were relaxing, watching a movie. (Okay this is not fully relaxing for me, as it is a bit like studying, but it is still nice) At about one or so in the morning I started to get sleepy. I yawned. You know the type of yawn that you can feel is going to relieve you before it really starts?! That kind of yawn. So of course I let loose with complete abandon. My boyfriend, happened to look over. He broke into laughter. The same laughter of earlier in the night. He said, "That was a really ugly face (still laughing and me too at this point), but I love you anyway!!! (more laughter from us both) How does such a beautiful girl do that with her face?" Then I said, "You can't be pretty all the time!" He agreed and we laughed again!
          So now I leave you with a photo that as of yet, has gone unsurpassed in it's unequalled achievement of ugly. A photo to make you laugh and cry! I find it to be disturbing and refreshing really. This is in-between expressions:

Damn, that's HOT!

kimbersfrog

He went to pee in his pants. He came back in undies and a smelly shirt

          Okay, first you have to understand a little bit about how we were set up. Not a lot don't worry. The hostel that I made as my home away from home in Edinburgh for a while was huge. They had a giant main side that all the transients stayed in. But if you ended up staying for an extended amount of time you would be moved to a smaller area. We called it the 'long termer' area. (or something close to that) As a result, we all knew each other fairly well, or at least knew who the other was. In fact a lot of us even worked in the hostel for at least a little while (and oh how I loved cleaning toilets). The only time someone stayed on that side that was only staying for a weekend, a night, or a week was if there was a big footie weekend and they needed extra beds.
          The second thing you must know about is a guy. There was a long termer, who shall remain nameless, who had a particular odor. All the time. You might even call it a stench. If you smelled this singular funk before you turned a corner, you could be fairly sure that he was only a few yards away. He was a very nice guy don't get me wrong. A little odd,  maybe a lot, but nice.
          One day, I was hanging out in one of the big spaces outside my old room with some friends. This happens to be outside two bathrooms as well. I kept thinking.... I smell ______. Finally I just interrupted conversation, and asked, "does anyone else smell _______?" Yes, but they all thought it was too strange to be true. He was nowhere to be seen or heard, and his room was on a different floor. In the end, we found a pair of his shoes and one of his shirts under the sink in the bathroom. In a closed cabinet. These things happen I guess (NO they DON'T). There were many stories of roommates telling there roomies to put their shoes on the window ledge, etc. to avoid the room (and ostensibly themselves) being polluted with suffocating stink. Fair enough. Maybe this is what had happened to ______.
          Well, then came a footie weekend. This was months later. I was in another room down the hall. I was even near two different bathrooms. (the amount of bathrooms in that place was awesome- except when it was my job to clean them all!) One of these bathrooms had become a sort of closet for my roommates and I. The showers didn't work, nobody used it, so there it is. My roomies and I got along well. In fact that night a few of us were up late chatting and I think we might have been playing cards. I'm not really sure about the cards though. That could be a factoid. Just sayin'.
          At some point in the middle of the night (why were were still sitting at our uncomfortable table in uncomfortable chairs I have no idea), the two guys who had been put in our room for the footie weekend stumbled in. They were both on top bunks. We watched this process with a mix of amusement, a dash of anxiety and perhaps a bit of admiration. Oh, come on, that's what world's funniest videos is all about right? I do believe I was the most stupefied (and really glad I was on the bottom bunk!)
          Then of course, we went right back to talking, laughing, whatever. There were also no worries of keeping these guys awake. They were out for the count. Oh did I forget to mention one of them stripped down to his underwear before getting into bed- how he managed without falling over, I will never know.  And then it happened.
          One of the guys said something. That got our attention. It was unintelligible if I remember correctly. Shortly thereafter, he sort of half threw himself and half climbed off the bed. It was yet another impressive feat. He proceeded to put on his pants and head out the door. We watched silently. And like children, as soon as the door shut the laughter started.
          After what seemed like forever, he came back in. Really, we were about to start taking bets on whether or not he would find himself in another room in the morning. As soon as the door opened however a truly bizarre thing happened. Something even I could not have previously imagined. I smelled _______ but saw a completely different person with the smell. Somehow, this guy had come back from taking a pee (that's the best guess anyway) and now smelled just like ________. Impossible. WE all sat stunned. Until, one of us nudged the other and we all saw his outfit as he was attempting to mount his bunk again. He was no longer in his pants. Only undies. And he now had a shirt on. He had no shirt when he left.
          Guess who's shirt it was. Yes. ________'s. It was very distinct not just by smell but by the band and specific wear and tear. So now our room had that funk we could not call our own. My roomie took photos. We were beside ourselves. We actually waited up to see what his reaction would be.
           He was horribly confused in the morning. The first thing he noticed was his pants and wallet were missing. I don't know if he noticed us trying to hide our laughter. It was a slow process for him to realize he had someone else's shirt on. One of us suggested he look in the shower with all the clothes. Yes. Apparently he had gone to pee in the shower stall that didn't work, and changed his clothes after. 
          He needless to say, was not as amused as us. I do believe his friend was slightly amused. He might have been more amused if he hadn't been so hungover. I was a bit worried he might vomit onto my bottom bunk.
          That is all there is to tell. I hope you enjoyed.

kimbersfrog

Finally I braved the Beach!!!!!

          I am a person who does not tan. I begin with the glow of the moon (that description might be considered... 'poetic license' ). In fact, I start off so white I have fears that I could blind people when the reflection of the sun hits me. When people here started telling me I should be wearing a bikini (because it seems to be a cultural prerequisite) I kept wishing I could communicate to them how much of a hazard that could be. Just walking on the sidewalk, a car could veer off the road from the glare of my stomach! I think my dad put it best when he said, "He isn't allowed to go shirtless within 20 miles of an airport." I'm sure this is just a safety precaution!
         I do change colour as everyone does however. I turn varying shades of pink. Then I turn red. Red hurts. And is itchy. Try scratching the most extreme rug burn you've ever had. Not fun. That is why the idea of lying out in the sun baking does not really appeal to me. I don't get that beautiful brown like most people for one. In the end I end up, sweaty, bored, and finally, looking like a lobster. And pain. Right, let me run right out!
          I do love the smell, sound and feel of the water. I don't even mind the giant amounts of sand that sometimes fill your bathing suit. It's worth it. But when I'm by myself, I have two choices. I can go out get wet and get bored, fairly quickly. Or I can swim for exercise. I hate swimming for exercise. I find it tedious. Oddly I wish I liked it, for me it would be the best way to keep in shape. But all I can think is, "Back, and forth, back and forth, really, I haven't gotten back yet?, oh okay finally, forth, back..." etc.
          I have gone to the beach this summer. Only to take leisurely strolls in the evening (once the heat has gone down). Sometimes I bring a book out or study Spanish. I wouldn't call that 'real beach going' though. The other day I finally went to the beach for real. The first time this summer. I loved it! I went with my boyfriend. It really makes all the difference when you have someone to go with. We went in the middle of the day. Shockingly, I did not burn to a crisp. (Right, pick yourselves up off the floor.) I had forgotten, HOW good it really feels to swim in the ocean. And how quickly a wave can surprise you! Luckily I like the taste of salt water. Heh, heh. And I had someone to play with. I know it sounds silly, but there it is.
           On the beach, I also had someone to talk to, joke with, and listen to music with. That made a huge difference. I didn't mind the heat so much. I had someone to help me with my lotion (more importantly remind me to reapply). For the first time in a long time I had fun going to the beach- as a real beach goer!
          Any trials and tribulations, you ask? Well, I didn't burn as I mentioned. I also barely tanned. I was even laughed at when I jokingly pointed out how tan my legs had gotten, the next day. I will admit to getting a little beaten up though. In the water doesn't count. The rocky bottom, you are lucky or unlucky if your foot catches a rock wrong. (I was a little unlucky, not a lot). On our way to the beach I pulled a brilliant Kimber move, if ever there was one! As we were walking, I stepped on the edge of the sidewalk. You know, where the sidewalk meets the sand. I just sort of toppled down. Okay, I slammed down with a BAMMMM straight to my knees! Soooo cool am I! Maybe, that's why I was spared the sunburn for the day!
          That was my day. I enjoyed it immensely. I hope you are taking a day here and there to delight in something of your own choosing!

   kimbersfrog