A Message to the Girls Whose Thighs Touch
It’s splashed right across her face. The waves gently touch the shore as she stands half-hidden behind a palm tree, busying herself with sunscreen and sunglasses and one more do-I-have-everything? She’s wasting time. She’s gathering courage. She’s surrounded by strangers who will never see her again, but she looks at their faces and tries to imagine what they’ll think of her. At twenty-one years old, no one has ever seen her in a two-piece bathing suit. There’s a hole-in-the-wall surf shack playing music and the kayaks are waiting. Quickly — as if no one will notice the change or hear…