Letting It All Hang Out

Ahhh—Summer. Lazy days, fun days, hot days that are perfect for cooling off at the pool. I’m lucky enough to have a pool membership as part of my condo perks. Some days at the pool are a joy. I’ve been known to sneak discreet glances at the sleek, young man-candy that shows up—usually in packs to which I say the more the merrier. But alas yesterday, there was no joy in Poolville. Quite the opposite, it was saggy, flabby, too-small-suit day. Now before you say I’m being cruel, let me first say that I too have my limitations as I get older and I have embraced them. Long ago I traded in my string bikini for a tasteful one-piece or board shorts and a tankini. I figure the more covered the better, I’m sure one day a full body wetsuit will be required.

I thought I’d share with you my top five bathing suit horrors I witnessed:

5. Escape of the Side Boob – Being a full figured gal up top, I know the importance of adequate support. Make sure your suit has enough cup fabric to keep those bad boys in check. While the teenage boys much enjoyed the plight of this unsuspecting young woman, the rest of there were on the edge of our proverbial seats, waiting to see if the quivering mound of breast was going to free itself and bob along the surface of the water.

4. Got Man-boob? – The British Supreme Court recently ruled man-boobs are not sexual in nature—when it comes to anything but rock hard pecs, I'd have to agree with them, sex is the last thing on my mind. Come on guys, if you’ve got more than a B cup, get yourself a swim shirt.

3. Bozo the Clown – Now I know I just posted a blog about manscaping and I poked a little fun at it, but really, if your going to wear small swim trunks, a trim is in order. No one needs to see Mr. Happy’s ‘sideburns’. The same goes for Miss Kitty, ladies.

2. The Speedo-Devouring Butt – There is a widely held belief that one should not go swimming for 30 minutes after eating. I would say the same is true for butts. If your ass is chewing on your swimsuit, please, for the love of god, don’t make the rest of us at the pool watch it! Better yet, it might be time to trade up to a larger suit.

and number 1…drum roll please…Laying the Hairy Egg! – This would be the male equivalent to the side boob dilemma, however, it’s much more shocking. We ladies are well aware that it is impolite to sit with our legs sprawled open…well guys, guess what, no matter what suit you’re wearing, if you’re in a lounge chair legs akimbo, chances are, we can see your naughty bits…and yes, it looks very much like you are laying a hairy egg!

In closing, when choosing a swimming outfit, keep one simple rule in mind. You’ve heard it before, but it bears repeating—Just say NO to crack

So now it's your turn, everyone share your poolside horror stories!

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Is Your Guy a Manscaper?

A deep dark secret about my beau surfaced two nights ago. I’d like to share it with all of you because—well, it was disturbing to me at first. Now before I get to the meat of it, let me preface what I’m about to tell y’all. My guy and I have known each other for seven years. We started off as good friends and evolved into a couple. I thought I knew everything there was to know about this man. Does he dress left or right? Right. Boob or ass man? Neither, he’s a leg man. Favorite guilty pleasure? “Dancing Queen” by Abba. Favorite food? Güisquiles Rellenos. You get the picture. I floated along in my blissful ignorance, secure in my knowledge of him until Monday night.

The evening started like most—Dishes done, little one in bed, me clacking away at my laptop. All was right with the world. Then my bladder insisted I could ignore it no longer. I saved my WIP and trotted to the bathroom. In my defense, usually when confronted with a closed bathroom door I would knock, but I was still lost in my writer’s fog. Y’all know what I’m talking about. So I didn’t think to knock I just burst right in. Behind the shelter of the door stood my man—my sex machine, hunky construction worker, weight lifting, ESPN watching man in all his glory, foot propped up on the counter while he was shaving his legs. Okay, not so much shaving them as trimming his leg hair with clippers and a #4 guide. Judging from the tidy appearance of other appendages he’d been hard at work on this project.

Once the shock of finding him mid-deforestation passed, I apologized for bursting in on this private moment. But then I just had to ask him what in the hell he was doing.

“I’m manscaping,” he replied, inspecting his freshly trimmed armpits.

“When did you decide to do this?” I asked.

“Cindy, I’ve always done this. You think Mr. Happy comes by a crew cut all on his own?”

He had a point, but I’d always assumed he just wasn’t a very hairy guy. To paraphrase Morrissey, some men are hairier than others. I’ve seen some men naked who looked like they had Buckwheat in a leg lock and others who were almost bald (though now I wonder if the baldies were manscapers, too!)

I’m not sure why I was surprised to find out my guy manscapes. I mean he does walk the line between manly-man and metrosexual. After all he gets more excited about buying shoes than I do, but a full body trim…well, I never knew. And after walking in on him in flagrante delicto, I think it’s best for our sex life if I never witness the process again. I suppose it’s the same as when he happens upon me doing my roots with a mud mask on my face. The results are appreciated, but the process—Not so much. A little mystery in a relationship is a healthy thing.

In Memoriam

In Memoriam of my vice-president of serendipities

To my friend who passed on without complaint
Who passed on while living life to the fullest

If you had told me…

But then again—If you had
We would have had a different relationship
Not because I wanted to
Because knowledge changes everything
Whether we want it to or not

Thank you for protecting me
Though you did not have to.
HIV does not require your silence.
I love you, Ian.
I always will.