In this world, there are two kinds of people: mountain people (not to be confused with hillbillies) and beach people. I am a mountain person. Which doesn't mean that I don't like the beach or that I won't invite myself to a friend's beach house so I can lounge in a beach chair and body surf with the best of 'em. I was just not made for the beach. I blame my Highland forebears.
After years of therapy and some rather painful experiments with sunscreen (think eyes swollen shut), I have come to terms with that sandy seaside world. One might even say that I love it (though still not as much as the mountains). So I offer some tips on how to love the beach as a non-beach lover:
Problem: Your pale skin made you feel like a sexy vampire for a while, but since beach season hit, you're feeling more like the albino from the Princess Bride and less like Alice Cullen.
Solution: Fake bake it till you make it. Spray tans and tanning lotions and gels are friends of the pigmentally challenged everywhere.
Problem: You are prickling with stingy, salty, sticky, trickly sweat. Your sweat 'stache has become a sweat goatee.
Problem: There is sand in places where sand was never meant to go, and you look like you've got a load in your bathing suit.
Solution: Word to the wise: don't sit in the surf. If you pick up some unwanted loadage, swim out into the water and discreetly empty it.
Problem: The beach is actually kind of boring.
Solution: Two words: bocce ball. Even better when you're able to strategically place your balls close to the hottie a few towels over. (Get your mind out of the gutter.) Or there's always this new-fangled thing called a book.
Problem: Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink. Because your friends have guzzled your sweet, refreshing reserves.
Solution: Enter the pickle brine water bottle. No one will ever steal gulps while you're in the ocean again. I also like to bring a big bag of cut-up fruit—it's water in nature's convenient, fun-shaped delivery package.
Are you a beach person or a mountain person?
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