The day I yelled at the sea: Part II

This is a two part story based on actual factual events. You can read Part I of this wrenching saga here.

The moment the chilled ocean water rushed over my feet, I felt a tiny desire to go back to the comfort of my beach towel. Somehow I had expected the water to feel like the most heavenly bath water I had ever experienced. Instead, I could feel goosebumps forming on my previously warmed skin.

The Husband, who was ahead of me already neck deep in water, prodded me to just take the plunge full force and get it over with.

But that wasn't the way I had ever conducted myself. Why start now? So I slowly took steps forward, navigating the small waves, and letting the newly submerged part of me get used to the cold sensation. By the time my hips were under water I had started to enjoy myself again. Reality check: this is where I was remember.

Mildly chilling water ranked very low on the list of things that required my attention. Besides, the sun was shining, and the breeze was warm. That was more than I had two days ago.

Then a wave engulfed me.

My slow and steady introduction to the sea had suddenly become fast and furious. But that's the way of life right? Sometimes things happen, especially if you're not ready for them. And you get drenched.

But it's not like I was totally unprepared. I was wearing a swimsuit afterall. 

At least I was until the next wave hit.

From the beach these waves had looked rather tame, but now that I was out in their midst, these waves seemed monumental. Now they resembled waves that crashed people into cliffs.

Or waves that caused warning signs to be posted along the beach.

Waves that ripped people's clothing off.



The reality of the situation though is that these waves were rather tame. I was just inexperienced in the ways of waves. That, and it turns out my swimsuit bottoms were most definitely not sea worthy.

With the torrent going on around me, I instantly felt my bottoms getting pulled down, like an angry toddler was tugging madly at my britches. Were it not for my quick thinking hands, I don't think I would even be here today to tell this story because I would have died of natural causes, mainly embarrassment, as I watched my swimsuit go out with the current. 

I was, for the most part, in shock. The waves kept coming. My bottoms kept falling, and my hands kept holding.

The Husband said I kept saying, "My bottoms are falling off! My bottoms are falling off! OH.MY.GOSH. They won't stay up!", all whilst gagging on salt water that somehow ended up in my throat and lungs.

Well I'm pretty sure he would have said the same thing I did had his swim trunks not been securely fastened around his waist.

And just as quick as the they had come, the waves momentarily lulled, just long enough for me to realize that the water was really only waste deep when the waves were not swelled around me. And as such, the Husband and perhaps many others had just had the opportunity to see bare . . . assets. Such an occasion!

The only thing I could do to salvage this day was to retreat further out to sea where the waves rolled more than vexed and where I could sulk in water deep enough to cover my sorrows. Then I could just wait there until anyone who may have seen anything was gone. Because there was little hope I would be exiting the water as I had previously planned, something similar to a Raquel Welchian or Deborah Kerr-ish scenario. Minus the Raquel and the Kerr. Substitute Pale and Redhead instead.

But the way things looked at the moment, I would be lucky to resemble a drowned rat.

So much for perfection.

The first victim of the sea that day was my swimsuit. The second victim was my hind quarters. The third was my pride.

I did learn a poignant lesson though. That carefree mom who was wearing a one piece was one smart lady.