Perhaps the hardest part about coming home from an amazing tropical vacation is bumping into someone around town after having been gone..
Random person: “Hey, how’s it going, Friend?”
Random Person: “So when is your trip to Mexico?”
Me: “We just got back, actually.” Random person then looks at you a bit perplexed as to why he/she can’t tell based on your lack-o-tan.
Random Person: “Cool.” Then walks away with nothing more to add.
Yes, it was amazing: beach, sun, ocean, pools, sandcastles, virgin drinks with umbrellas, fellow gringos, too pregnant in a bikini, local bus to Puerto Vallarta, hours spent reading and napping, cervesas, chips and guac, cheese, practicing Spanish and more.
But I didn’t walk away with quite the tan I was hoping for. I suppose that’s always the case in my world. I am Irish for god sakes. And poor Luker, he just hopes that one day his freckles will all connect and make him look a shade darker. We tried, people. We tried.
And as educated as we both are about the risks of sun damage, I can’t pass up an opportunity to burn the shit out of myself in the name of a tan. Even for the dream of one. I am a product of the 80s after all.
Here are a few pics from our vay-cay:
One hell of a Babymoon, that’s for sure.