Response to Treatloudermilk's Bathing Suit Story

I had a bikini with the same kind of "pocket" you refer to....I was 17....sitting on the water's edge in the wet sand and letting the waves lap against my legs (and by the way....NEVER shave your legs the same day you go to the beach--the salt water stings like a MoFo on freshly epilated skin)....the tide slowly rose, thus allowing the seawater to reach my buttocks....cold!!

I got up to head back to my little roasting towel, neatly fastened to the sand with a pair of sandals on one corner, a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic Extra Burn the Holy Crap Out of Your Integument (Well-Done) Tanning Oil on the second, three Cosmopolitan magazines on the third corner (with a rock on them to prevent the pages from being ripped away by the wind) and a portable radio on the fourth....I got as far as bringing myself to a 3/4 upright position when I realized that the bikini bottom had tried to fasten itself to the sand by means of more of the same in that dreaded little pocket you mention....in other words, I momentarily flashed a BA at what felt like two-thirds of the population of Belmont Shores thanks to the lower half of my swimsuit weighing six pounds, fourteen ounces.

I quickly yanked the yellow bikini bottom back up and ran into the water (with a lump in my crotch) to empty the sand from said beach attire. Suffice it to say, I never sat on the water's edge in a bikini again. Furthermore, I have since opted to sew that extra piece of fabric to the suit or remove it altogether. It's kind of disgusting anyway, especially if there is any residual adhesive from that little paper hygiene strip the manufacturers glue to the bathing suit....like some kind of maxi pad....

....speaking of which, there is typically a sign in the fitting room of most clothing stores which states that one must leave her undergarments on while trying on a swimsuit. I see their point, but really, can you trust how a high-cut bathing suit looks with Jockey For Her peeking out from beneath?

And Ms. Loudermilk, I remember those scuba trips. To be more precise, I think I typically snorkeled--because I bloody well despised having to haul equipment that weighed more than I did all the way down to the sea. Remember the trips to Malaga Cove, and that dirt path we descended to get there? At that last corner was a thicket which always reeked of urine. I never understood why it was just that bunch of bushes that hobos or whatever opted to empty their bladders.

While snorkeling (or doing the scuba thing) I always thought it was extremely cool the way sand dollars ambulated across the ocean floor....they skittled along on their edge, leaving neat little tracks (if the water was calm). The bright orange Garibaldi fish were a breathtaking sight as well....and speaking of breath--I nearly drowned on one trip when an entire bed of kelp decided to wash over me, trapping me under its weight and in the tangle of branches and leaves. In scuba class they teach you that the best way to free yourself from kelp is to bite right through it. Yeah, right. When you're gasping for air and flailing like an idiot, the last thing you feel like doing is chewing through six thousand salty stems....but I managed to do that and free myself. I used to fear jellyfish and stingrays more than anything, but after that experience I always kept a wary eye on the seaweed....perhaps my penchant for sushi is my own little attempt at revenge.