And these boobs you cannot change
(Oh x 5)
A few days ago, moping about being lame for canceling my trip to northern Spain, I decided that I needed a new way to prove my independence to myself. So, after a few moments of tossing around ideas in my head, I did what any rational creature would do and decided to go sunbathing topless.
Somewhat nervously, I gathered up my things this morning and headed to the beach at San Juan, which is a short Tram ride out of town and would further minimize the chance that I would accidentally run into any of my acquaintances (you know, the ones that are busy being not-lame and are all NOT IN SPAIN at the moment; whatever, I'm paranoid, shoot me). The beach itself is, by the way, pretty amazing. Hardly anyone was out there this morning because A) the weather's been so iffy lately, and B) it was a Tuesday and most people aren't unemployed bums on spring break like me. In short, hardly more accommodating environs could have been imagined for my plans.
After briefly wading up to my ankles in the sparkling ocean water (and it really was sparkling--no other words), I set out my towel and unhurriedly, in a totally not obsessive-compulsive and evasive manner, rearranged the position of my water bottle and book about fifteen times. Then, having thus run out of things to distract me from my decision, I furtively glanced at the exposed breasts of the bronze Mediterranean goddess twenty years to my left and tried to absorb some of her confidence. Obviously, she didn't care about the whole world being able to see her nunga-nungas. Of course, because nothing was remotely strange about that.
I peeked into my bikini top at the translucently white skin that hadn't seen daylight since about, oh, never. What would happen when flesh met air? Would I erupt in a column of flame sent from the heavens? Would the children running by clutch at their poor, virgin eyes, begging to unsee the horrid paleness that could not be unseen before collapsing in sizzling, festering heaps?
With a deep breath, I imagined someone walking up to me and asking me who the hell I thought I was, with my boobs hanging out like that--some kind of European or something? Why had I plagued the whole beach with my sinful snowy spheres (nice alliteration, amiright)? I imagined myself staring that person down, shimmying, and retorting, "Why? Because I'm a grown-ass woman and I do what I want!" (And then trying to translate that sentence into Spanish and butchering the hell out of it).
Unable to justify putting it off any longer, I unclasped my bikini top in one swift motion and...nothing happened. Not even one measly strike of lightning from the heavens above. Ah, I realized--this really isn't that big of a deal.
And then I sat on the beach for four hours and got my first-ever, truly all-around boob burn. I even took pictures!...Just kidding, that's Mr. Bean.
Well, let me tell you, my friends--although it wasn't a big deal for anyone else on that beach today, it was a hell of a big deal for me, and I'm proud of myself. Even though I won't be able to wear a bra for a week now.
Ohhh Clara,
ReplyDeleteI loved your blog about sunbathing topless. It's so liberating. I did this about 30 years ago on a beach in Tahiti. Of course I had a nicer body then and came home with sunburned tata's. But I didn't regret it for one minute. You're a beautiful girl and why not enjoy simple pleasures of life.
Mrs. Gladieux
I applaud your bravery (I tried for five minutes to convince myself that "braveness" was the right word there, but then realized that it wasn't actually a word at all), mademoiselle! :D And your nunganungas (NEW FAVORITE WORD) are awesome. JUST LIKE THE REST OF YOU. So you have nothing to be embarrassed about!
ReplyDeleteAlso I would suggest that we do this in Scotland or something since Edinburgh has a beach, but our nunganungas (STILL NEW FAVORITE WORD) would likely become frostbitten and fall off, floating away on a rogue wave like something out of that one movie about unlikely Piranhas.
LOVE YOU. <3