We’ve spent a LOT of time at the beach lately. Our daycare provider was on a well-deserved break, so Boychild and I (and Husband) have just been beach bums. When I say beach, I think I need to clarify: there are seagulls, there is water. There is sand. There is a mountain made of slate opposite the beach. Further down the road is an island oasis where the Marx Brothers and Dorothy Parker used to party back in the day. No waves here, no salt. Just a good old lake beach with people from New Jersey and New York and right here in Vermont hanging out together.

What I’ve noticed about beach folk is that there are these men- these middle-aged dudes with impressive guts that sort of jut out from the rest of them. Big, sun-baked bellies on display. And they don’t care. They may be riddled with shame on the inside, but man, most of them peacock around the place like they’re lord and master of the universe. Meanwhile, their wives or girlfriends are wearing “cover-ups.” There’s a bazillion dollar industry in cover ups. These items exist to say, “ladies, hide your a$$/ thighs/ arms on the beach. No one wants to see your body if it’s not a toned size 2, so do us all a favor and wear this festive cloth to distract from your dumpy lady-flesh.” Can you imagine one of these paunchy beach bros sporting a sarong? So wrong.

I know that guys are also body-shamed and young men and boys are among the fastest-growing group of people with eating disorders. It’s tough for them, too, bless ’em. But these guys I’m talking about? I get the feeling they feel very comfortable with their bodies, and that’s pretty cool.

I admire these guys. I want to be that cocksure about my body. Since the effin’ pandemic hit, I feel like a neutron star, only pale. Also, now that I’ve had a child, I’m fluffy in weird places. Middle age doesn’t help with the fluff, nor does it help with the wrinkly bits. I wish I had the body confidence of these dudes with their wraparound shades and prodigious bellies. These men meet the world head-on! They’re not ashamed of their well-earned tummies! Why should I be? I mean, my tummy is the result of 9pm doughnuts and 9 months of carrying a child. I should be proud of both! Those doughnuts made it uneaten til 9pm! My child made it through 9 months and now he’s 3! Hand me the dang bikini. I’m joinin’ the beach bros. And this time? No sarong.