Life's a Beach

Ah, summer. Every time the mercury pushes over 70 I feel the need to dash to the beach. I must go at least seven or eight times a year on average (I live in Maine, remember). Of course, when it’s over 90º I go down to the basement and crawl into the freezer. Maybe I should just buy an air conditioner. Anyway, beachmeister that I am, I also monitor the ocean water temperature, and when it breaks 60, I'm there, dude. I go at least twice a year.

Some of you out there are thinking this isn't very often. That may be true, but when I go to the beach, I go swimming. I do not go to lie in the sun listening to my brain bake, like most avid beachgoers. Sure, I shine blazing white in the sunlight, but women find that so attractive. I discovered many years ago that I have two options in the skin tone department: fishbelly white or lobster red. This would not be an easy choice, were it not for the pain factor, which makes paleness look pretty good.

Besides, this whole skin cancer, ozone hole thing is starting to make people think I'm an environmentally health-conscious guy instead of a pasty white geek. (And women seem to like the smell of SPF 90 sunblock.) Soon there will be more non-tanned individuals around. Then you will need wrap-around opaque sunglasses if you wish to ogle the bathing beauties. Not so they won't see your eyes following them, but just so you can stand the glare off their bodies.

Speaking of which, how do you like the new suits the girls are wearing these days? Last year I thought it would be fun to challenge designers to create a suit using only one square foot of material. Now I see that it wasn't much of a challenge. They can make two suits with that much cloth. So this time how about trying a six-inch by six-inch square. They have apparently been doing it with this little material for years in Brazil.

Now that I have raised the issue of bikinis, perhaps I should mention the rules about wearing them. There are only two: You must be a woman of the female persuasion, and you must be a model.

Rule one is well known in the U.S., where men's swim suits have been getting longer and baggier, while the women's get shorter and skimpier. (Who says men have no fashion sense?) But judging from the attendance at Maine beaches, Canadian men are unaware of this rule. They seem to be exceptionally fond of wearing those little Speedo things, which display their--ahem--wares rather prominently. (Well, not all that prominently, if you know what I mean.)

I suspect that there is a shortage of full-length mirrors in Canada, and since most of the Speedo wearers cannot see beyond their pot-bellies, they are unaware of how indecent they look.
I have considered bringing a large mirror to the beach to show them how they really look, since I have no power to call for Canadian government action, but I'm not sure this would work. It is possible that the Speedo crowd would wander up to it and admire their profiles, making sure they had at least three inches of flesh bulging over their waistbands. Then they would turn for a frontal view, to make sure their appendages were properly appended. Somebody tell them they are breaking the rules. I can't stop laughing long enough to tell them myself.

The second rule is the more often flouted of the two. It is okay, even desirable, for young coeds to prance about in tiny bikinis. Bikinis were in fact invented specifically so that they would do this. However, if you have even a micron of body fat, it will be highlighted dramatically. This was the swimsuit designers' intention, the idea being that no one except nubile under-25-year-olds would wear them.

Unfortunately, this scheme backfired, and bikinis have become the outfit most often ticketed by the fashion police. This should not be taken as an insult by you slightly-less-than-perfect ladies out there. We men would never wear anything like that because it would make us look terrible. We have seen the Canadians.