Running into Myself at the Beach
Recently, my friend Carolyn and I went to the beach with all the accoutrements that women of a certain age require for a day by the sea. After we settled in, Carolyn looked at me and said, "If our sixteen year old selves could see us here today, they would be humiliated. Can you imagine?"
Frankly I could.
"What is with that bathing suit?" My sixteen-year-old self is not surly to others but speaks freely to me. To defend her, she does not feel that she is the epitome of good taste. She simply believes that she knows good taste when she sees it.
"What's wrong with it? I ordered it from a catalog."
She eyes the black tank suit with disgust. "A feed catalog?"
"No." I hate being so defensive but I can't control myself. "A very popular catalog as a matter of fact."
"Really?" What she is really saying is something akin to 'liar, liar pants on fire."
"All the kids order from it."
"I'm sure." She isn't really. "What year did you buy this suit?"
"This summer."
Her cocked eyebrow questions that assertion.
"I order the same bathing suit every couple of years. It's a classic."
"In black?"
"Black is classic." That defensive tone in my voice is getting stronger. "I have a long torso, you know. It's easier to order from the catalog."
She offers one of those knowing nods that most teen-agers have perfected by their sophomore year of high school. "What size did you order?"
I'd like to tell her that it's none of her business, but she is after all, me. I give her the information she wants.
"You promised me in high school that you would always look cool and never embarrass me."
I mumble as I try to come up with a clever retort but she is on the move with another comment.
"It's August."
"So?"
"So this is the best tan you could get?"
"Aha, Ms. Smarty Pants. Times have changed since you were hanging out on this beach. Sun exposure is not good for you."
"The ozone thing? I heard about it."
Now it would be my turn to nod knowingly. "It's worse than they thought."
"You would think they would have developed more sophisticated sunscreens by now. You know, with varied sun protection factors."
I push my SPF 30 under the towel.
"Besides it doesn't look like you worry all that much about taking care of yourself. Don't you ever go to the gym?"
"How did you find out about the gym thing?"
"Get real. I wasn't on this beach so long ago that the fitness craze hadn't started." She plops on the towel beside me -- with ease. Back pain and sore muscles are not part of her experience. "What is all this stuff you brought with you? Staying for a week?"
I admit that the bag is a bit on the large side. She has everything she needs in the pocket of a shirt that she wears as a cover-up. "If you have to carry all this stuff, and I find it hard to believe you do, couldn't you at least put it in a backpack? This bag is . . . well, tacky."
"I got it at a promotion as a trade show. It was free."
"No kidding."
"Hey, that girl over there has her stuff in a big CVS bag."
"Just because she does something tacky, do you have to do something more tacky?" She begins to root through my bag.
"What is THIS?" On her lips, THIS is a derogatory term.
"An extra sweatshirt. It could get chilly."
"And THIS?"
"Pants. In case my legs get too much sun."
"Socks?" She is shocked and horrified.
"I probably won't need those." I shake off the possibility as preposterous.
"Do you really need all these tissues?"
"My allergies have gotten worse."
"Well, that explains these pills. Three Chap Sticks?"
"They are easy to loose."
"A giant size bottle of Advil?"
"Well . . . sometimes if I am on my feet too long . . ."
She rolls her eyes. "Why so many glasses?"
"Well, I have these for reading in the sun, and these are for distance. And I brought this pair just in case it gets cloudy and the sunglasses I have for reading are too dark."
She raises a hand to silence me. "I understand."
But she doesn't. She is sixteen. She doesn't realize yet that two extra pounds doesn't make you obese. She doesn't understand that body parts need maintenance. She doesn't understand that older bodies prefer creature comforts to the joy of looking hip.
"Do you have to wear the hat?"
I touch the brim nervously as I explain. "It protects my eyes and my hair."
"Oh yeah. The hair." She doesn't elaborate about the style or the color it's been since I started losing the battle against the gray. "You have the umbrella." Her tone is definitely accusatory.
"But I don't sit under it all the time."
"Not according to what I've seen. You haven't moved from that chair since you got here. You don't even move to your beach towel. If you ever do get tan, you'll only have color on the front. Don't you think?"
Not about those things. Not much anyway. "I've got other things to worry about now. I am a grown-up you know."
She rolls her eyes. I wait for the next assault.
"The chair is okay. It's small and easy to carry with that strap." She eyes the heavy lounge chair that Carolyn reclines on with disgust.
"Thanks." I think she missed my ironic tone.
"But you still looked like a pack mule coming to the beach."
I see no reason to get upset over that statement.
"And if I'm not mistaken you were wearing black street shoes."
Guilty with an explanation. "My favorite flip-flops broke. I need to find new ones."
"I'll say." She grows earnest. "Don't you remember when we were in high school, you looked at some older people and thought that would never happen to you? Then you saw that there were some cool older people and you swore that you would be like them? Don't you remember thinking that you would keep an eye on high school kids to see what was in?"
I remembered but even then I realized that I'd have to modify my look to suit my age.
"Modify?" She eyes me, and my accessories, with a critical eye. Sadly, she shakes her head. I know she thinks that I am a hopeless case. Disgusted, she gets to her feet. She is leaving. Suddenly, she grows a bit pensive.
"Are you a good and kind person?"
I shrug. "I try to be."
"Have you lived most of those dreams I have?"
"A really high percentage of them."
She considers the information before nodding. "Okay. That's important. But can you do one favor for me?"
I nod. I am sorry to have disappointed her in so many ways.
Her tone is firm. "Stay off the beach."
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