Sea lions

Malaga Part 2

I've never been a beach person.
I'm pretty sure my dislike of the beach stems from the fact that I've always been a fatty.
Frolicking on the beach has never enticed me because all I can think of is the ridicule it will invite.

I had never been to a european beach prior to Torremolinos.
I've been to beaches in Mexico... and it's where I've dealt with much of the hate from other beach goers... their harsh judgements and whatnot.
I'm not going to sit here and I like I haven't judged... or have made fun of others... become scandalized... all of that shit-- because I definitely have.

While chillin' on this Spanish beach, I noticed people were splayed all over the place however THE FUCK they wanted. Old, young, fake (as in, plastic surgery up the fucking ass), TOO real, skinny, fat.
People from all walks of life... ALL minding their own fucking business.
Naked chick to my left? Cool tits. Oh look at that rock! Fuck, I'm getting a rash.
Saggy, old man to my right? Dude! Did you catch last night's game?! Intense!

As I sunbathed like a sea-lion, pausing my music, I sat in silence and observed my surroundings. I noticed the ONLY people judging were D and I.
That turned me the fuck off... it was so... off-putting... uncool to realize how fucked up we actually are.
Me: D, let's like... just enjoy the moment. That 89 year old woman wants to sunbathe topless? So be it. Just don't look at her if it bothers you so much... but let her be. We sound... so fucked up. We need to mind our own business.
D: Yeah... you're right. You know, I catch myself talking shit sometimes, and I feel embarrassed and I wish I could stop... but it's usually too late.
Me: Me too. We really need to make that extra effort to fight that tendency. We criticize those who do it, yet here we are like a bunch of stupid mean girls... only ones here talking shit while everyone else is having a good time.

As I resolved to be a good person... because everyone had been nice to my less-than-perfect ass... allowing me to lay there on my towel like some fucking Playboy Bunny (which of course, I am NOT. I'm an ex-obese girl... we all know what deflated balloons look like...), I heard my sister gasp.
D: ...fuck!
Me: What?
D: Well, before you decide to turn over (oh, I was on my stomach, tanning my backside)... I think I should let you know the most perfect group of Spanish boys have decided to sit next to us. They are... fucking beautiful.
Me: No pinche mames...
D: Ohhhhhh  yes.... PERFECT, AnoMALIE... they are... OoooooEeeee!
Me: Goddamn it! Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Just my luck... goddamn! Why couldn't we just be surrounded by old people? They make me feel secure enough to lay out here without giving a shit. Not some fucking... Adonises.
D: AnoMALIE... oh my god. They are... fuuuuck. Turn over... you gotta see 'em.

After some careful consideration and deep breaths, I threw all my traumas and insecurities out the window and turned over.
What did I see?
The most beautiful creatures on the face of the planet.
Four beautiful men enjoying a day in the sun... knowing we were gawking at them, and allowing it.
They even gave us a nice little show... running in what I swear was slow motion... wetting their bodies slowly... and running past us again... smiling.
Guys, it was magnificent.
They saw us taking photos... and they'd smile coyly. Instead of being jerks, or slime bags (they left that task to US), they graciously accepted the attention, but continued with their own business.
Yes, they talked about us... but it was so sweet.
Apparently, to these gorgeous Spanish men, D and I were Italian. They lamented about their inability to speak Italian, because they'd be unable to converse with us.
"Guapas, las Italianas" they said as they walked past us.

D and I were frozen... too excited to say anything... opting to hold on to that moment, rather than open our big stupid mouths and wrecking the memory.
To these beautiful, sweet men, we were happy, leggy Italian girls enjoying their beautiful country.
To us, these beautiful Spanish boys were bashful dudes who thought we were cool.

I doubt I'll ever feel so comfortable-- or happy-- at a beach again.

(Homeboy in red shorts was MY dude. Christ... the fucking beauty is mesmerizing. The dude in yellow was the coquette. He'd run back and forth, coyly smiling while looking in our direction. He was rather appreciative of our attention, I was appreciative of the obvious)