"Smiling woman in swimming suit standing on a deck" by simpleinsomnia is licensed under CC BY 2.0

Dear Readers and Friends,

I don’t have anything new for you today, but I’ve got beach on the brain since it’s summer. I’ve been thinking about beachside bathing machines from the olden days. They looked like little houses designed by canine architects who were collaborating and Bora Bora architects.  So the end result was a Bora Bora doghouse on the seashore. Just imagine a big doghouse on the water with stairs that leads you into the sea.

The beachside bathing machines were also segregated by gender so when you exited, you had to exit seaside, not shoreside. Modesty meant, “no peeking,” though I’m sure people peeked all over the place. There’s nothing more alluring than not being allowed to look.

This brings me to thongs. I am a Midwesterner so I am still shocked when I see a bare ass on the beach. It’s not shocking to me in California. It’s not shocking to me in Europe. But in the Midwest, it looks crazy to me. It’s like thinking a policeman showed up at your office and he turns out to be a stripper.

I am tempted to go up and whisper to the owner of the exposed tush and say, “Your bikini is shoved up your ass. You might want to yank it out.” 

“This is the Midwest,” I want to further explain. “No nudity with the lights on.”

I’m not the only one shocked by Midwestern nudity. Because it’s scarce, people have difficulty unlocking their eyes from it. So, if you really like getting gawked at, wear a thong in the Midwest.

That’s all I got today. I’m going to go shove this bod into a turtleneck Speedo. 

Happy Summer,

Amy