Beaches and Bitches

Welcome to another installment! If you’re reading, I’d appreciate comments. They make me happy.

And God knows I need that.

So I was babysitting last Monday. Two wonderful children (Trinity 5, Jimmy 3) and usually it’s at their humble abode. This time, however, their mother dropped us off at a park in Kirkland, WA for some fun in the sun. The park was also part beach, you see.
The thing about Kirkland is it’s full of rich, arrogant assholes who run shirtless because they think everyone wants to see their hot bods and their girlfriends who tan in as little clothing as possible and bring their rat dogs to get buried in the sand and yelp (only to be ignored by said bitch girlfriend because she’s listening to Katy Perry or Lady Antebellum while she tans).

I’m trying my best to ignore the general populous of the beach and focus on playing with the kids but it’s a difficult task. Here I am, 19 years old holding the hands of two small children, pale as the moon and fully clothed. I’m getting a lot of stares. Why?
Well I’m assuming that *they’re* assuming these two children are mine. I can feel the judgment. And, my goodness, how dare I have white skin and wear too much clothing to solve my pigment issue.
I see them. Ranging from about 16 to 20. Girls in small swim suits, gawking at my situation, laughing at my lack of “beach etiquette” (whatever the hell that means). “What a loser” “Could your skin be any more reflective?” “I wonder if they’re her’s?” “Sucks to be her”

The arrogance is overwhelming. Well I’m too busy babysitting to say anything or to give a fifth of a fuck about what these people think of me. I find it amusing, however, that they think they are SO much better than I am.
Why are you better, beach bitches? Beach dudes? Because you have a tan?

Have fun with the skin cancer. I’m comfortable with my skin. I don’t need a tan to be happy. But I know that boy/girl you’re crushing on won’t even look twice if you’re any degree of white. And I know that you’d rather be at the beach, tanning, than at home where your rich parents think you’re a failure or don’t even give you the pleasure of thinking of you because they’re too busy making money and buying you expensive things to replace their love.

Do you think you’re better because you’re sporting a small swim suit?

I’m babysitting. I’m not here to get in the water. Oh, you’re not getting in the water either? You’re going to sit on your towel and flirt for four hours and then go home? Then why the hell are you wearing a SWIM SUIT? You’re at a beach so it’s acceptable to wear it and show off that tan you’ve been working on. But you wouldn’t dare go in the water because, God forbid, your hair gets wet and you worked on it far too long to allow that.

It’s because you’re rich isn’t it? You live in this nice neighborhood with well kept parks and no gang violence.

It makes me want to push you out into the cold, dark world so you can realize that there’s so much more to life than this bubble you’ve been living in. While you spend money on bathing suits (that never touch water) and tanning lotion and gas for the gas guzzling car you got for your sweet sixteen, there are people who will never know the luxury of lounging and free time.
You are spoiled. Everything is done, bought, and worked for by other people *for* you.
And while you’re driving around the luxury car, promised a place in Daddy’s law firm, and tanning, I’ll be working my ass off in college to fulfill my dream.

So, go ahead. Think that you’re better than me. The fully dressed albino with two kids (who she’s actually babysitting, but I’ll forgive your narrow mindedness because I know how awfully you’ve been raised). I know that my life will be much more fulfilling than yours in every way.

Even without a tan.

CP, out

~ by findingherforte on July 29, 2010.