In the middle of the scorching summer many residents lost their bras and any pair of shorts that covered more than a butt cheek. They got down to the bare essentials, so it was not unusual at the grocery store to get a crash course in anatomy.
Funny, but I don’t think anyone went to jail for indecent exposure.
Since few people wandered around on my favorite strip of beach, I wore fewer clothes than I will ever admit.
By the way, that decision had nothing to do with me believing that I have a beautiful lean body. It only means that I really do love the sunshine and I really do hate clothing.
Occasionally I considered the repercussions of yanking off my post-mastectomy bikini top. How could I possibly get in trouble for being topless when so many males at the beach have a lot more boobilage than I do?
Anyway, now that I have spent nearly 10 months in Indiana, my tiny tan lines are nearly invisible.
That fact alone brings tears to my eyes.
And so, when this beautiful spring weather finally arrived, no one was happier than me.
To celebrate these gorgeous blue skies, I decided to dig out my one and only pair of shorts and my favorite pair of dirty old flip-flops.
Immediately after I had that stupid shorts and flip-flops idea, I must admit that I was nearly blinded by the glare of my bare epidermis.
Without the sun beating down on my scantily clad body while it was stretched out on a raft in the water, my stomach is now as white as a shark belly. And my belly has a flab curtain under the roof where my belly button resides.
Once I added the shorts, I felt dizzy.
“Oh my gosh my legs are awful,” I muttered as I entertained an immediate interest in wrapping a blanket or an area rug – maybe even a curtain – around my lower body.
My Florida legs were such a pretty brown.
Now that they are Hoosier legs, they are the same color as two bars of Ivory soap, two white mini blinds or two white light bulbs.
So, so white.