Sunday, August 17, 2014

Why I Hate Going To The Beach (And Those Few Reasons Why I Love It)



It has been over a week since my beach vacation, so I figure now is the best time to admit that I actually hate going to the beach. Sure, when I was little I used to await the summer so my family and I could set out for the local beach (which, by the way, is vile). I used to build sandcastles with moats deep enough for the natural water to flow up from the ground. There'd be towers and rooms in what I thought was a magnificent castle (it wasn't). It wasn't all about what bathing suit I'd tan in or where the hot lifeguards were. I wore as much sunscreen as possible to avoid getting burnt and I'd always make sure I headed to the snack bar to get the most delicious french fries.

Sometime when I got to middle school and realized that the beach in my area was gross, I started resenting them. Why couldn't we live on an ocean? Salt water seemed more appealing than contaminated river water that most likely contained little critters and human excrement. I was under the assumption that it was the water that made all the difference. However, it was not.

Beaches, and specifically, beach vacations are supposed to be relaxing. You're supposed to lounge and not put yourself on any sort of schedule. I can't do that. I can barely sit still for half an hour let alone hours on end in the blistering sun. I just get bored and anxious to do something other than sitting down. So, let's say I hit the boardwalk (if there even is a boardwalk). How many times can I walk up and down the same street with the same shops and vendors before I realize that I don't want anything or can't afford the things that I do want? Once. That's how many times. 

I don't like sitting around doing nothing. It drives me mental. I need to constantly be doing something, and beaches just don't provide enough entertainment for me. I need a city. More specifically, I need New York City. I never get bored there. I can walk and walk and walk and as long as I'm wearing somewhat comfortable shoes, I am comfortable. Chicago is also some place that can hold my attention infinitely longer than a beach ever could.

I also really hate how hot it is. I am complaining about everything under the sun (pun not intended) because, well, I can. But seriously. It's too hot laying around trying to get a shade darker so that your neon shorts look decent on you and you appear slimmer without actually having to do anything. That's my favorite kind of slim! The blistering sun hitting every inch of my body combined with my profuse sweating (TMI, but seriously...it's awful) makes for a really uncomfortable time.

That is not my body glistening in the sun. That is pure sweat. #HOT

Now, I don't hate everything about the beach. Nothing is better than sitting back and reading a book near the water. If you can find a comfortable enough chair, reading on the beach is wonderful and I swear, at least half of the people that I saw thought the same thing. Also: floppy sun hats. I wear mine everywhere anyways, but at least it has legitimate purpose at the beach. 



And who could hate a great tan? As long as you properly apply an even layer of sunscreen every few hours, you can avoid getting burned while still getting that glow that you've been waiting an entire year for, but refuse to tan in a booth because that's just really awful for you and why would you pay to subject yourself to those harmful rays?

Have I mentioned hot lifeguards yet? Because I swear in order to get the job, you have to be attractive. It's like an Abercrombie thing, but for popular beaches. It's shallow and sick, but man, am I grateful for their bodies and faces and general existence.

I dunno, maybe I'll like beaches again in the future. Maybe it's a cycle. Maybe I just need to be heavily sedated. The world may never know...

Do you like the beach? Am I the only weirdo who needs to constantly be entertained? Am I like a dog?

No comments:

Post a Comment