Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Tanning

I like my brother's girlfriend. She's the first girl he's dated that I like. They are goofy together, and they're a good pair.

She and I were talking about tanning one day, and we complained about our tan lines making our skin look like we have little white bathing suits on all of the time.

My grandfather owns a large ranch in the town where my brother and parents live. It's six square miles of rolling hills, green fields, and giant oak trees. There's farmland in the front, but it's separated by fences. There are a few houses up there. It's just my half-blind grandfather and his Hagrid-like tenant who helps manage the property.

"Why don't we just tan naked on the ranch. We'll hike up one of the trails. No one would ever find us back there."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I never see anyone back there." And it was agreed.

On the day that we carry our sunscreen, tanning oil, speakers, water, and snacks up the path, we are a little nervous. We find a spot on the hill with plenty of sun and start to strip down when we hear a roaring noise.

"Is that an airplane or part of the song?" I ask.

"I think it's a four-wheeler," she said. I start to dismiss the idea--of all of the space on the ranch, why would anyone be on this old, hidden trail--when there comes Hagrid-like tenant on his four wheeler! I was only wearing a sports bra and shorts. We tell him that we're tanning, and he goes away, but for the rest of our time tanning we jump at the slightest noise. I'm sure that my credibility was thrown out with my clothing.

Now, whenever I'm tanning, even with a bathing suit, I'm always nervous. Thanks, Hagrid.