The temperature shot up today, to the point where sitting in the stuffy Inn was no longer appealing to Meg. She finally relented and let me take her out in the sun.
We went down by the beach. Meg wore a modest one-piece under a pair of cutoffs and a tank top. It seemed designed to keep her stuff in. I wore a blue two-piece designed to do the opposite, under a flowery light dress.
Meg has asked from time to time, how I can be comfortable dressing this way, if I'm a man inside. The truth escapes me. One day I woke up and decided I was cool with it - it's as simple as that. Some days I don't, and just opt for jeans and a sweater, but having the option, why not explore it? It'll be gone soon anyway, and it'll just be part of my past.
Alternatively, I'm a girl forever and I should just embrace it anyway. Whatever - zen.
I think it's just a product of being among teens for so long. I got sick of girls hearing "Don't wear low cut tops because it'll distract the boys" that I started wearing them out of spite. I hated being told what to be, being treated like I was at fault for other peoples' backwards attitudes, like I had no agency in my life... the frustration of a real teenage girl. Nobody takes them seriously. And sometimes, they don't deserve it - they like a lot of shallow things, they're fickle, they have ever-changing atittudes based on what's hot at the time - but they also have a lot of ideas, more awareness of the world than they get credit for. Especially the amount of time these kids spend on the internet exposing themselves to new ideas and other cultures. No wonder they want to assert their independence, and I'm right there with them, in a form fitting bikini, if I wanna be.
It's not to flirt, I can tell you that much. If people need to glance, that's their business as long as they don't breach my personal space. No boys, no girls, nobody could approach me these days without being rebuffed. I'm not interested. I hate the idea that the way I'm dressed invites people to come talk to me. Perhaps it does send that signal, but my attitude will send the opposite one. And maybe these guys will learn a lesson.
I did some frolicking in the sand and surf, but the beach was crowded. Meg mostly stayed back in the shade, reading. She said that was something that kept her sane, spending an afternoon in the empty apartment, able to forget whose life she had when she was absorbed in a book.
Back at the Inn, we caught up with those girls I noticed the other day: Erin and Rosie. They both appear to be in their late 20's. Erin is petite and bookish looking with long dark hair. Rosie is a bigger girl, and didn't say much. I think she was expecting some rude treatment from the "hot girls." I hate people laying preconceptions on me just because of how I look, but I can't really blame them. That's the culture. Women are pitted against each other.
Erin commented that she had seen me around the other day and wondered "Who I belonged to," assuming I was with the middle-aged couple who checked in earlier. I scoffed. That would be Chet and Kitty. Chet's an upper-management type and Kitty has a "real housewives" vibe about her. They introduced themselves in passing when I said "You must be the ones making all that noise last night." He sort of half-apologized and slanted the blame onto Kitty.
Meg and I had a "girl's night" with Erin and Rosie. We mentioned it was our second time at the Inn in case that meant anything, but it didn't appear to. They talked about what brought them to Maine, and we gave a version of our story.
When we got to the Inn, Meg thanked me for getting her out of her room, but said she was still gonna be careful and make it an early night, and I admitted all that fun in the sun had worn me out too. We hugged good night, and I went back to my room to write this.
I regret being so friendly with Erin and Rosie, though... now I'm a little worried what might happen to them.