Day 1.7 – Sun Burnt Boobs


Most of my friends and teammates from high school have seen my butt. I don’t know where I learned it or who I got it from but I had a surprising lack of normal inhibitions in high school. There came a point in my high school rugby career that one of my coaches would check my rugby shorts to make sure the draw string was tied tight enough and good enough that I couldn’t pull my shorts down in under 30 seconds. During that particular rugby season I actually had to wiggle, shimmy and shake a little bit in order to moon anyone that I wanted to moon. Other than rugby though, I normally was wearing basketball shorts with a pair of tights underneath so I was able to flash my bottom around as much as I wanted.

Just ask my poor and ever patient mother: I showed my butt off a lot.

If you ask my sister, she’d tell you that I mooned so many people that the top of my ass actually got a tan line across the top of it.

Weirdly enough, that was true. I did have a tan line across the top of my ass for the longest time after high school.

But you know what? I’ve always had some small amount of modesty in me. There were just somethings that I wouldn’t do. I made out on my best friends front lawn at one point, I went streaking across SFU campus as well as went fountain diving across SFU campus at another point with different group of friends (It was dark and I ran behind everyone and used my arms to cover up the goods whenever I needed to so no one saw much of anything other than my bare behind). I’ve opened my front door for Jehovah’s Witnesses in nothing but a sheet that I barely allowed to cover my boobs. However, I’ve never actually managed to fully show anything more than my ass.

Yes, I retained some sort of modesty.

Tanlines...I had them for a day.

Or at least that’s what I did until I traveled to Mexico alone for a week! I was 21, had saved up all summer long to go on this trip and wound up by myself in a foreign country in a place where no one knew my name and where English wasn’t the dominant language. The drinks were free, the sun was hot, I had my lawn gnome by my side and there were topless women everywhere!

Let me repeat, I was in a land far far away from home where my mom and dad would never find out what I did unless I wrote about it in a future blog so I felt free to do anything and everything I wanted. My first day there I woke up at 6am for some weird reason and was full of energy so I pulled on a sports bra, a tank top, a pair of basketball shorts, slipped on some flip flops and hit the beach. Except for the night before, this was the first time I’d ever been in a large, salty mass of water. The night before didn’t count because I was drunk on tequila and stumble onto the beach to stare at all the pretty stars. Anyway, all tangents aside, I wound up going for a run along the beach.  And even at just past 6am it was hot. I figured that since there weren’t many people around, who would care if I took my tank top off to finish my run? So I did.

Three hours, one long swim, a margarita breakfast and a golf cart ride later I found my way back to my hotel room to shower. I snagged a cold beer out of the fridge and walked into the bathroom because I had decided the only place in the entire world where I liked beer was in extremely hot countries while I showered in bathrooms that had tubs with three shower heads that you could point all towards you. Except…ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch! It actually hurt to pull my sports bra off. Hell, it hurt to just breathe and hurt even worse to shower. At this point I’d only glanced in the mirror so I took that moment to inspect my naked form a little bit better and saw that I was burnt like a lobster that had worn a sports bra into the pot.

After I suffered through a shower I put on a bikini top and another pair of basketball shorts over my bikini bottoms and made my way back to the beach. My bikini kept touching my burnt spots and the glimpses of the pale skin against my new red and darkening colour was really bothering me. I’d had these sorts of tan lines before, but it was nothing like this.

So I took a page from all the topless women around me (There were really only 6 or 7 of them) and stripped off my cyan blue bikini top, dropped it by my lounge chair and settled in to read my book.

That night after a margarita and nacho’s lunch, another swim in the Caribbean, an hour in the gym and 8 chapters of my book, I returned to my room with even burns all over my torso. The only part of me that was my original colour was weirdly, my butt and thighs that were covered by my basketball shorts. And dang, was my butt white.

The next day, I went and picked up some SPF 60 sun screen and made sure I wore that every time I left my room…and doubly sure that I had it on for the rest of my topless days in Mexico.


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