That Boy

At least that's what it felt like.

After about four hours of walking beans, I have to admit, I was ready to use the scythe on myself, just to make the misery stop. But then I figured I'd forever be remembered as the girl who killed herself in a bean field.

Not exactly the legacy I am hoping for!

So I quit. I'll take babysitting some cute kids as a summer job any day. You take the kids to the pool, flirt with the lifeguards and get a wicked tan. You go have ice cream, take the kids home and put them down for a nap. Then you sit in the air conditioning and watch Oprah and your soaps. A much nicer working environment, I think.

But back to the bean pole thing.

I looked it up on the Internet and guess what? There is such a thing as a beanpole. It's all one word. It is a thin pole used to support bean vines. Just what you would think, I guess, but I can tell you that I never saw one of them during my bean walking experience!

Where was I?

Oh, yeah, my bikini body.

It seems a strange thing happened this year. I went from a nonexistent A cup to a nice full B. Granted, Katie and Lisa have had boobs like this since about sixth grade - okay, so my body is a little slow - but I have to say, they were worth the wait! For once in my life, I actually fill out a bikini top on my own (as in, no padding) and it looks pretty good, I think. I almost feel sexy in it. Mom was with me when I found it. At first I thought it might be a little too skimpy, but she liked it on me.

She said, “If you've got it, flaunt it because once you have kids, your body will never be the same.”

This from a woman who is 5'9” and a perfect size 6. She goes and works out three times a week with a group of friends. Although from the sound of it, I suspect there is more gossiping and coffee-drinking going on than actual exercising. However, she must be doing something right because she still wears a bikini herself and looks good in it. When we go on vacation to the beach, it's really kind of embarrassing because the young guys pay more attention to her than they do me.

Maybe there is hope for me.

Of course, I'd prefer not to have to wait twenty years before I get a boy to notice me in a swimsuit.

In all seriousness, I know there are large, really important issues in the world. World peace, terrorism, nuclear arms and global warming. But honestly, finding the perfect swimsuit has got to be at the very tip top of most women's list, regardless of race, religion, political, or sexual orientation. So in finding this perfect bikini, I really feel I've done my part to help conquer this great world issue.

I'm thinking about the bikini's big inaugural event. It will first be viewed by the public, and specifically Jake, who I've been dating off and on for about three months now, at a big river outing some of us are having next weekend. Today my plan is to hide in the back yard and fill in my tan lines, so it really looks great.

I am prepared to lay in the sun all afternoon if that's what it takes.

I am so proud of my strong convictions!

I have the whole place to myself. Mom is at a volunteer meeting and Dad is at work. Jake would be pissed to learn that I'm home alone and not begging him to come over, you know, so we can be alone, but I'm not in the mood to deal with that today. It's too perfect of a day. So I put the stringy thing on and appraise myself in the mirror.

Not bad.

The bikini is of the string variety, like I said. It's supposed to look like the American flag. One side of the triangular top is blue with white stars, the other side is red with white stripes. The bottoms are also red and white stripes and all the stringys are made from the star fabric. It is really very cute.

I head out to the backyard, move my chaise into the sun and cover myself with a mixture of baby oil and iodine. I know, I know, no sun block is a bad thing. But my Mom used it when she was young, and she doesn't have cancer or anything. Plus, it works great! I lie down on my stomach first. Next to me is a table with an ice-cold diet Coke and a trashy novel to read if I so desire. Playing is my current favorite mix CD.

Aw. Perfection.

I close my eyes and start to daydream. I'm envisioning Jake's possible reactions to the tiny bikini. They have ranged, so far, from him wrapping me in a towel because he is so desperately jealous and doesn't want anyone else to see it, to attacking me with kisses out on a raft, to his fainting in amazement of my body, to….…

“Hey, Jay,” a male voice says.

I open one eye and see Da

“Come play catch with me and Mac.”

Oh come on. Can't you see I am VERY busy!

“Aw, Da

“Please Jay, I've got football camp coming up, and I haven't thrown a pass in two weeks.”

“What about Kelly Majesky?” I reply smartly, referring to his latest in a long string of female conquests.

Really, if Da

“Football passes, Jay,” he says smoothly, rolling those baby blue eyes at me. “Come on.”

“I can't, Da

“When we're done, I'll take you and Phillip to the Shack for ice cream,” he bribes in a singsong voice. “My treat. Come on, you can get a tan playing football. You play in a swimsuit all the time.” He pauses. “Of course with all that oil on, you'll be harder to tackle. Maybe you'll give Phillip a run for his money. For once.”

For once?

A challenge, huh?

Shit.

“I want a double cheeseburger, fries, a chocolate shake, AND maybe even a hot fudge sundae. Deal?”

“Pig,” he replies, but shakes his head in agreement.

“Fine, I'll be there in a minute.”

I lay my head back down and try to revive my daydream. Unfortunately it's long gone.

I look at my back. No change yet, but I guess Da

Play and fill in the tan lines at the same time.

I am so efficient!

So I get up from my comfy spot, walk over to the picnic table, hook my finger thru a belt loop on my favorite cutoffs, pull them off the table, and drag them behind me. I walk over to my fence and fling open the gate. Da

I start to walk toward them and then thinking, stop and yell, “Shoes or no shoes?” You have to decide this in the begi

Most often though, it's no shoes.

I keep standing there, holding my shorts, waiting for an answer.

“Hello?” I say, waving my shorts in their direction.

But the boys are both just standing there staring at me, their mouths agape.

Shit, is one of my boobs hanging out or something? I take a quick look down at myself. No, everything appears to be in order.

What? It's like they can see me, but they can't hear me.

“Shoes?” I yell again, maybe they didn't hear me.

“Uh,” says Phillip, looking down at his own feet, like he can't remember if he has them on. “Um, no shoes.”

Phillip gives Da

What's up with those two? I probably missed some stupid boy joke.

Whatever.

I jog over to them in my bare feet, pull on my shorts and zip them up. “Okay, I'm ready.”

“Uh, new swimsuit, Jay?” Da