Modest Swimwear Never Looked So Good

What happened during a sunny, balmy afternoon on the white sands of Myrtle Beach in North Carolina will stay with me and my little sister and brother for the rest of our lives. It was shocking. Repelling. Gross.

The image is seared into our brains as if branded with a rancher's hot iron mallet. Too bad for my siblings. At only 10 and 12, they are for sure, permanently scarred. They may need long hours of counseling. I'll make sure to watch them closely for signs as they grow older. Any signs, like drooling, pacing, small ticks.

It all started soon after I dozed off as the kids were building a sand castle nearby. The rumble of the surf soothed. The warmth of the sand beneath my towel seemed to embrace me, and I sunk into its warm arms. Myrtle Beach was a haven for our family (I emphasize "was"). I wanted to sunbathe in a bikini but my parents always told me I had to wear more modest swimwear. But, even with the modest swimwear, the sun's rays covered me like a soft blanket.

It was the silence that woke me. My brother and sister stopped their play. I opened my eyes and saw them with blank stares and open mouths. I turned my eyes down the beach to see what had caught their complete attention.

As soon as I turned, I let out a feral scream. I was still somewhat groggy from the short slumber, and the sudden frightening image before my foggy eyes, must have blazed through all of our irises straight into the central cervix of our brains - if that's even possible, it must be a bad thing.

The kids jumped as I screamed, sending buckets of sand high into the air. They ran to me and hid behind me as I sat up. They then stared at the grisly scene from my back like a couple of bear cubs seeking protection from their mother.

None of us could speak as the beasts walked closer to us. Our eyes remained focused on the sand, afraid to look up. The footsteps came closer. I looked over and little Joe was looking out of the corner of his eye. His curiousness always got the better of him.

"Well, hello there," a familiar deep voice boomed.

"Isn't it such a nice day?" the woman's voice seemed caring. It was a trap for sure. "Anyone want to go for a swim?"

We all looked up slowly. Something we never should have done.

At first, it appeared to be two sunburned people standing in front of us without clothes on. We saw the man's legs first; red, hairy, old. They went up for a long time until we saw the blue line of nylon that outlined his hips and a bulge in between his legs. His belly slightly hung over the front of his Speedo and sweat beaded down his chest, drenching thin trails of chest hair. His white smile was big and bright, glowing in the blue sky background.

Little Joe yelled out, "DAD?!"

All three of us snapped our heads to the right to see the woman he was with. Mom for sure wouldn't be seen with Dad like this.

To our shock and horror, Mom was standing shoulder-to-shoulder to Dad, smiling with the same glee and sporting a G-string bikini that never should have been legal on Myrtle Beach. We all saw more of her than we ever wanted to.

Simultaneously, we turned our heads and groaned, then buried our faces into the beach towel. Our near-naked parents then laughed and fell on us.

"Tickle party!" Dad yelled.

We couldn't get away. We were smothered in naked parents. Disturbing. Unforgettable. Gross.

Now, a few years later, we're back in Myrtle Beach for a family reunion. I'm sitting in a beach chair drinking lemonade and watching the tide go out. My parents are walking along the beach, hand-in-hand. Mom's in a one piece bathing suit and wearing a large Hawaiian T-shirt. Dad's sporting a new pair of long board shorts and has a towel around his neck.

Modest swimwear never looked so good.