I am neither a gossip nor a sun seeker but I love to sit on the beach and watch the waves from the safety and comfort of my chair and umbrella. After a few days of this, I usually have finished my books, crossword puzzles and conversations with my umbrella buddy, so I move on to people watching and gossipping.
This is such fun! The best part!
OK, men, I know you’re going to say that you do beach watching all the time but I am talking about watching people in general, not just babes in bikinis. These, by the way, have become almost non-existent…the fabric of said bikinis not the babes!
While on the topic of babes, and women in general, let me say that I have observed that plastic surgeons everywhere are making loads of dough! I have never seen so many body parts standing at attention-in women- even when lying on their backs.
Now, that defies the laws of gravity. And, no, I have no pictures. I am a gossiper, not a voyeur!
I watched as one lady turned to bake her back and she had to lean on her elbows as her artificial chest did not squish down as the real things do. What’s very funny is watching the movement of men’s heads as they follow a particularly well endowed bikini top, even if obviously artificial, they don’t seem to care. One man, sitting next to his wife or girlfriend, was so funny as he surreptitiously watched one of these babes. He slowly and carefully moved in order to remove the umbrella blocking his line of sight. I should have taped and posted this to Youtube.
Maybe next time. Be forewarned!
Another fun factoid of beach behaviour is the amount of, or lack of, personal space that people need on the beach. I need a lot. I put the beach bag 2 feet to the left, the shoes 2 feet to the back and leave a 2 foot space between me and the central pole of the umbrella. This is a view from my space.
French Canadians, who were there in such large numbers that it did not feel like a vacation sometimes, (I am from French Canada) do not seem to need much space, physical or vocal. And, they travel in packs. If you think you are setting up next to 2 quiet French Canadians, you are wrong. Within an hour, the extended family will arrive, followed by friends they met here in Florida and neighbours who came from Quebec to be with them. Together, they form a large circle, like the covered wagons of the wild west when attacked, and put the beer coolers in the safety of the middle. Conversation, and beer, flows loudly from point a to d to f and so on. It is like being in a loud tavern. They do not physically encroach on your invisible circle, though, which is thoughtful. However, sound carries. They are friendly and willing to admit you to the circle if you decide to give up on personal space. Lunch is a group affair with an appointed few going off to haul giant boxes of pizza. That’s another reason to join their tribe: someone goes for lunch!
So, if you can’t beat them, join them.
Something that surprised me about these and other beachgoers, is their continued love relationship with the sun. Most are greased and poised to make sure every part of their body is fully exposed to the sun. I sit under an umbrella with number 60 sunscreen over every part of my body, sunglasses and a hat. I take no chances with that devious, cancer-bearing sun. I wonder how these beach lovers missed all of the articles on skin cancer. This time, unfortunately, it will be the dermatologists making the money.
Generally, it is fun to watch and gossip. People are fun. I like them. But, heh, don’t touch my beach-bag perimeter!