Why Yes That Is My Bikini Top Floating In The Ocean

Every year growing up, we would take a summer vacation to Myrtle Beach, SC. Dad, my brother, C, and I would all pack-up and head south to the beach.  We always had a great time with days spent laying at the pool, walking on the beach and playing putt-putt golf.

One year in particular stands out.  This particular year, I was sixteen.  I felt sassy and bold. And I had this fabulous leopard print bikini.  I mean it was FABULOUS. It was safe to say that I was rocking that bikini. 

So, on one of these fun summer beach days, after laying at the pool for most of the morning, Dad, C and I decided we would go for a walk on the beach.

All three of us leave the pool, walk down the deck to the beach and begin our leisurely stroll.  I am enjoying walking with my feet in the ocean, feeling the wind in my hair and smelling the salty ocean air.  I am feeling good and confident in my new cute bikini.

After we have walked about a two miles or so, I pause to look out at the ocean and take it all in when I notice a beautiful shell laying in the sand. I bend down to pick up the shell and as I stand back up I notice something in the water. I think that looks like...oh cheese and biscuits! It's my bikini top floating in the water!!  Holy crap on a cracker!

I scramble forward to grab my top and throw it around my girls but this has not gone unnoticed.  The boys volleyball game behind me comes to a halt and they are all whooping and hollering.  Just let me crawl in a hole somewhere.

Frantically, I look around and find my Dad and brother walking ahead of me oblivious to my humiliation.  I scamper up to them and say, "Um, guys, we need to head back to the hotel. RIGHT. NOW. My bikini top is broken."  As I tell them this, I am holding my bikini top in front and in back.  Oh yeah.  I'm rocking that bikini now.

Right now, you may be thinking, "Why didn't her Dad or brother offer her their shirt?" And the answer is, "They didn't wear a shirt."  Why?  Well, because it makes good sense when you don't tan and only turn varying shades of red to not wear a shirt when going for an hour walk on the beach. Obviously.

So, my Dad says, "Let me take a look at it."  Like he can MacGyver fix my bathing suit with a grain of sand and a sea shell. I am going to die from embarrassment.

I say, "Dad, let's just go!" and stomp off back down the beach towards our hotel. Trying to muster enough courage to get down the beach and back to the hotel.

Once back in the hotel room, I loudly declare, "That's it! I am not wearing a bathing suit the rest of the time!!"

Turns out the clasp in the back of my bikini top broke.  And I guess to be fair, I was wearing a strapless bikini top which I should have known wouldn't really be able to support all of my, um, assets. Ahem.

Dad took some dental floss and "fixed" the clasp problem on my bikini. Super classy, Dad.  I did end up wearing the bikini again that trip but only with a shirt.  

That was the last time I ever wore a bikini.  

RIP sassy leopard print bikini. RIP.