This Thursday's Trip down Memory Lane takes us back to one of my favorite eras. The era in which I rocked a bikini. Booya.
One summer, we planned to spend three weeks at the beach. I was very excited about this. This was gonna be my year. It was the first year I really filled out my bikini in any sort of respectable way, and my intent was to take full advantage of that.
The first week it was pretty rainy and overcast. Not perfect beach weather. No worries. It was the first week and we still had two more to go. We’d just do indoor things. Shopping, game rooms, movies. Restaurants. We generally spread these things out over the course of a vacation, but Mother Nature can be a little controlling like that.
Near the end of that first rainy week we went out for seafood. My parents aren’t particularly fond of seafood, but it’s my favorite, so they always took us out for some at least once when we were by the shore. The seafood, in other words, was a sort of rare treat. For me.
A few hours later I didn’t feel so well.
“You just ate too much.”
A few hours later still I had sweats and chills and unmentionable – indescribable things were going on in my belly. If I’d eaten too much that would no longer be a problem, as I was pretty sure there was nothing left in my stomach after a couple hours on the little camper porta-potty with a bucket between my knees.
My parents exchanged worried looks.
This was not a child who had over-indulged.
This was a child who needed to go to the ER.
I’m not sure what I looked like just then – I couldn’t lift my head from the bucket long enough to see myself in the mirror – but I could see what my parents looked like. And they didn’t look good.
I’m sure it will come as no great surprise to anyone that the diagnosis was food poisoning. Or that the prescription was hydration. And time.
Mother Nature can be a little nasty like that.
Week two of our beach vacation opened with bright sunshine. It found me too weak to squeeze toothpaste onto my toothbrush independently. My mother stayed with me that first day, while everyone else suited up and headed for the beach. The next day she was still willing to stay, but doing so was sort of tinged with martyrdom. The third day brought a little full-out resentment. The fourth, one of the other parents we were camping with offered to stay with me. She wanted to clean her camper anyway, so didn’t really want to go to the beach. It would be no trouble. Really.
I’m not sure, but I think my mom may have kissed her full on the lips. If she didn’t, I bet she wanted to.
The next day I made it to the beach. I was still a little weak, but no worries. We still had a few more days.
The very next day I got my period.
And my awesome new UNWORN bikini was white.
You have got to be kidding me with this.
Mother Nature can be a real bitch like that.