Views from the Beach

I love the beach.  I love the sound of the waves, building sand castles and getting a tan.  Thanks to my parents and my father-in-law, we are able to hit the Redneck Riviera (Gulf Shores/Orange Beach, AL) on a regular basis. 

I must say, the sights on the beach have definitely changed since I was my children’s ages.  Our last trip has confirmed for me that my tastes and appearance are actually in the minority at the Redneck Riviera.  My whole family’s for that matter.  And I feel quite proud to be in this minority for a number of reasons.

Without further ado, here is a re-cap of my Views from the Beach…

1.)  Everyone done gone and got a tramp stamp:  It seems that now everyone has adorned their body with a tattoo, regardless of their socio-economic status, or whether they have spent time in prison or not.  Even the children are sporting numerous temporary (I hope) tattoos. Old, young, fat, skinny, there they are, loud and proud.  It was an entertaining and disturbing visual feast of graffiti everywhere I turned.

Don’t they realize that does not come off in the shower???  I am hoping reverse psychology will work with my kids: “Sure, go get you a tramp stamp like everyone else!  Be a follower!  It’s so classy!  By the way, when you are getting a colonoscopy in your 40s, the doctor will get a good giggle seeing that butterfly over your sagging ass….”

2.)  Fat chicks in bikinis:  I remember being in Alvin’s Island in junior high and seeing a bumper sticker with a robust woman in a bikini with a “no” symbol over her (circle with diagonal line).  Then it said “No fat chicks in bikinis.”  I was amused as I thought that surely no one who was overweight would want to put it all out there by exposing her midriff in a bikini.

Times have definitely changed.  Size is no longer a factor when sporting a bikini on the Redneck Riviera.  In fact, the majority were definitely not young hotties.  It was more of a mature, overweight woman thing.  Actually, it was a sensory-overload flesh fest.

Now even I will occasionally sport a bikini, which I probably shouldn’t after the stomach trauma I suffered carrying 4 large babies.  But I certainly don’t strut around.  And I won’t bend over to fetch something – please, that is what the 4 children are for, no one wants to see my skin flop over! 

Perhaps all of the feel-good afternoon talk shows have encouraged people to love their bodies regardless of the toll it is taking on their hearts.  But I don’t need it squished in my face, I am trying to enjoy the view.  Buy a skirted one-piece, or get off the beach already!

3.) Anklets:  I am not sure why this abomination from the 80s is still around, but I am here to tell you it is not “vintage cool.”  The only reason you should have something adorning your ankle is if you must be tracked due to a brush with the law.

But no one got this memo at the Redneck Riviera.  Various anklets were sported all over the place, from metal to shark teeth.  I guess that is sexy to some men, but it just seems like an unnecessary tan line to me.  And do I really need to point out how tacky it is?  I kept wondering if it goes under socks when the weather turns cold, or if it is mercifully removed.  Food for thought.

4.) Personalize your vehicle: Obviously this wasn’t on the beach, but just about every vehicle in that area seemed to have some kind of personalization.  If it wasn’t monogrammed, it had the children’s sport of choice listed with their name and/or number.  And there was an unusually large number of cars adorned with the whole cartoon family on the back, including pets.  Many of these families were sporting Mickey Mouse ears (sigh).  Or there was just the descending sized flip flops to symbolize family members. 

I don’t mean to be macabre, but what happens when Fido reaches a ripe old age and goes to the light?  Do you remove him with a straight edge from the back window?  I mean, given our horrible luck with pets, we would always have to make adjustments to our family cartoon!

Then there is the initials.  This particularly troubled the sweet sitter that was with us, to the point that I now secretly wish to get some to put on her vehicle when she is not looking.  Wouldn’t that be cool in the college area?

Are people afraid they won’t be able to find their car or recognize it as their own?  I thought that was what the red horn button on my keychain was for!  Follow the horn sound and look for flashing headlights! 

I guess the bottom line is, I just don’t get giving out all of that information to the drivers around me.  Guess what, they really don’t give a damn Scarlett.

The bottom line is this:  when vacationing in the Redneck Riviera, try not to get sucked in to the cheese.  Having drinks at the Florabama:  acceptable cheesy, even rising to a trip-to-the-beach requirement.  Tattoos, anklets, skin hanging over bikinis: unacceptably trashy.  And just leave your car out of it for the love of God!  But if this is your bag, go for it.  I love some good people watching, and I have a camera….

Adventures in Self-Tanning

The essentials

I live by the motto, “If you can’t tone it, tan it.”  No, I don’t mean tanning beds, those coffin-like, cancer inducing devices that haven’t been cool since the ’90s.  I am talking about these wonderful creams and sprays that have the ability to make you look as if you have been reclining in the Caribbean (instead of driving carpool.)

I must confess that my own un-toned areas are self-induced: I have a penchent for ridged bbq potato-chips (not baked) and Reese’s peanut butter cups (lightly chilled.)  I am convinced that large vats of both exist in heaven, but do not cause bulges or cellulite.  Incentive to act more Christian-like.  In any event, while here on Earth, I must tan to make these areas seem less scary.

Assuming that there are a few souls (or men) who do not know what I am talking about, I will now lead your through my adventures in self-tanning:

Tanning Creams  Jergens got it so right when they invented firming self-tanning lotion.  I no longer have to try to mix my firming lotion with squirts of self-tanner.  I religiously apply it after showers, hoping that it will make me both firm and tan.  I rub it in vigorously, hoping that the burning of my rubs will melt away the bumpy skin.  I mean, why shouldn’t I believe that is is “clinically proven to reduce the appearance of cellulite in as little as 7 days!”  I am keeping the faith, despite the weird yellowing of my nails.

Spray tans  Not just for movie stars (Jennifer Aniston) anymore, now the average person can go to a salon and have their bods spray-tanned by a professional spray-tanner.  They can also come to your home with a pop-up tent and sprayer.  Botox parties are being replaced with spray-tan parties!

I first tried the spray-tan while pregnant.  I had a Mardi Gras ball to go to, and I still had some pride left.  However, none was left after my visit.  Though I kept on the disposable panties, my melon-like bosoms and big preggers belly were exposed.  The poor girl commented, “wow, I’ve never done a pregnant girl before.”  I had a hint of what my husband was going through, and cringed inwardly.

It was cold, and damp, and I then had to use a hairdryer on myself to finish the product.  But I was tan dammit!  I still end a spray-tan session this way, mesmerised with how my stretched belly skin ripples in the blast of hot air (sigh.)

What’s even cooler about this is that, if you are appearing in public with an exposed belly, the more experienced spray-tan techinicians can airbrush in some muscles that haven’t been seen since pre-pregnancy.  I mean, who doesn’t like that?! 

The results quickly help you get over your embarassment at being “nekked” in front of a virtual stranger.  The whole thing troubles my husband, especially my tan lines from the paper-thong. I don’t care – I’m ready for another appointment with “Geaux Bronze,” and Crystal knows I go “Chocolate” for the best results.

Tan Towel  Their tagline says it all, “Look Good Naked.”  Well hell yes!  These little wipes help me get by between spray tans.  They are packaged in large handwipe-style envelopes – tear open and wipe away.

I was self-tanning with one the other night when my husband boomed from the shower, “What the hell are you doing?”  “I’m self-tanning with a Tan Towel boo.”  Duh!  He replied, “Kristen, are you having a mid-life crisis or something?”  I quickly did the math and decided that no, I was not quite ready for a mid-life crisis.  I quietly ignored him and wiped away.

Surely he realizes that my mid-life crisis will be along the lines of Adventures in Plastic Surgery… sheesh!  Ladies, go forth and tan, and bring along some Reese’s – it will blend with your shade of Chocolate.

You know you are a Southern Lady when…

Though I have written about Southern “ladyisms” in the past, I decided to share my thoughts on what it is to be a “Southern Lady.”  It is a special breed that I fear is disappearing.  So to you mothers of young, Southern daughters, please read, learn, and pass on to your “little ladies”….

You know you’re a Southern Lady when…

You prefer the bathroom door say “Ladies” instead of “Women” (and you know the difference between the two)

You still dress up for church (no jeans!)

You write a thank you note on personalized stationery when you receive a gift/meal/etc. And you teach your children how to write thank you notes as soon as they can print.

You wear closed-toe shoes if your toenails aren’t painted, or you at least paint the toes that are showing.

You know how to set a table with all of the utensils and glasses in the correct place. When unsure, you consult your Emily Post.

You don’t chew gum in public. If you absolutely must (breathe reasons), you don’t smack – no need to catch flies. Speaking of flies, you cover your mouth when you yawn or sneeze.

You own a slip or two, and you wear them under see-through clothing.

You say “hello” when you answer the phone, even though you know who it is, thanks to caller i.d.

You still say “yes/no sir/ma’am” to anyone who appears to be at least 10 years your senior. And you teach your children to do the same.

When you stay at someone’s home, you bring a hostess gift. When you return home you write them a thank you note.

You dress your children age-appropriate, including shoes. (She has the rest of her life to look like a hussy, but not on your watch)

You say “thank you” to the waitress/check-out girl/receptionist, even when she is pissy/rude/unhelpful.

You bring a meal/dessert/wine to a neighbor who has just moved in, a friend who has just had a baby, etc.

You say grace before supper, and all of your children know it.

You help an elderly person if you see that they need it – you don’t wait to be asked.

You never burp out loud (or poot for that matter.) And you never say the word “f-a-r-t”

You say “Hey” and “Y’all” with pride (and you know how to spell “y’all” (short for “you all” not “ya will”…)

You know those paper hand towels in the powder room at a party are for drying your hands, so you use them, instead of soiling the starched, monogrammed hand towel that is there for show. Duh!

You leave something to the imagination when you are dressed. No need to over-advertise.

You know when to wear linen, when to wear corduroy or velvet, and when to kindly tell your girlfriend she has on way too much animal print.

Your hair appointment is a sacred occasion that is rarely re-scheduled.  No one wants to see your roots – have some pride!

Go forth and spread the good word!