I don't describe myself as pretty-in fact, far from it. Plain would be a better description. It's not that I haven't tried to look beautiful. I have endeavored endlessly, yet unsuccessfully, to craft myself into an image of those beautiful creatures who grace the covers of women's magazines at the supermarket checkout lines.
When tanning was the rage - and in some ways still is-my sister, Annie, and I would lie out in the sun in our bathing suits for hours. Of course, it probably wasn't the best thing to do. But we were teenagers and had a lot to learn. Knowing that the dark stockade fence around the property kept anyone from knowing what we were doing, we would grab the folding lounge chairs and lay around in the sun, staring at the sky, or the grass, depending on how we were turned, I discovered that there was a particular corner of the house where wasps had some interest, that clouds move slowly, that planes sometimes leave white-chalk streaks across the sky, unless they rise above the clouds, and that seagulls love sailing through the blueness.
An extension cord kept the television within sight, and girl talk always filled the tanning time.
Annie and I were closer then. We chatted about high school, and her boyfriends-but not me, I was the ugly one! We discussed make-up and bad hair days, although she never seemed to have bad hair days. Of course, she had naturally curly hair, which she always complained about having to tame, while I desperately wanted curly hair, but the price for permanents got way too pricey for hair that hangs down way past the shoulders.
The result of our outside tanning days was usually sunburn for me and a tan for Annie, who seemed to have adopted the darker skin from my father's side of the family, while I remained stuck with, a few tiny freckles and skin that never tolerated the sun.
My brother, who was at his height of being annoying, decided to question, "If seagulls fly over you, aren't you scared. Look at how they stain the pier, just from flying over it."
"Ewww," I said, not wanting to visualize this image. I squeezed my eyes shut instead.
"Go away and annoy someone else," Annie said, swatting at him. Obviously she didn't worry about that.
But somehow along the way we stopped the sunbathing.
Now, when I think of those days, I would not want to go back. I am not even happy about going out fully dressed, much less wearing a bathing suit. In fact, I think I have probably forgotten how to swim. It's not that my body is big and dumpy, like Big Bird. I just never felt like I grew into it quite right.
