On Sunday, we went to Fontana Beach on Geneva Lake. It’s a way cool little beach town that isn’t quite as touristy as Lake Geneva.
One of the great things about living in the Midwest is that almost nobody is concerned about having a beach body. In Hawaii, I am a big, pasty cow. Every person in Waikiki has bronze skin and finely toned surfer muscles. In Wisconsin, even the skinny girls have cellulite and sunburns. Under the Wisconsin sun, I don’t look so bad in a bikini.
The one thing I continue to wrestle with is my belly button. I got it pierced when I was 22. Now, almost 8 years later, I admit that a 30 year old with a belly button piercing is… well… maybe trying too hard. My abs are certainly not what they used to be, but I don’t think the piercing necessarily looks bad. I just feel like taking it out would be… I don’t know.. giving up. Admitting that I am old. But am I not old? Shouldn’t I admit it?
Of course, nobody really sees the piercing… It’s only on the rare swimsuit day that I think about it. So I guess I can delay thinking about my mortality for another year. Or at least until crop tops come back in style.
(P.S. I can’t keep up with all the comment spam, so nobody is allowed to put hyperlinks in the comments anymore. Your comment will be automatically deleted if you try to include a hyperlink.)