If there’s one insecurity I grew to overcome quickly here in Hawaii, it’s the exposure of skin. More skin than one is used to exposing in one’s uptight little corner of the world, that is.
Tunics that I normally just use to get from home to the pool and back serve as dresses here and sarongs as skirts. Like, that I have been wearing in public. Not just to the beach either, but to restaurants and bars.
Bikinis are everywhere, so I’m glad I brought four with me. (Though the virgin skin unused to the sun is a little angry with me today when 4 hours on the water prevented my religious reapplication of SPF 50 every hour.)
Espadrille wedges and the one pair of heels I packed remain untouched. I’ve worn nothing but flip flops except the day we went hiking when I wore sneakers. And even worse, because of the sand and the surf, my pedicure is not intact. The horror. I would never dream of exposing a chipped pedicure back home. But here on the island, hang loose.
My runs on the beach I’ve done in a bikini and t-shirt. Not a la Baywatch (I know how you think) but still, for a woman who doesn’t wear shorts even in the height of summer, this is a huge step. It’s too hot for yoga pants, and the one day I wore running crops, they just got all wet anyway so why bother?
I’m relaxed. I’m comfortable. I’ve adapted. I can’t believe that next week I will have to wear heels. And bras. And dress clothes. But vacation wouldn’t be vacation if it happened all the time.
I mean… I don’t know what I mean. That sounds pretty awesome.