Yeah, that small.
So it kinda goes without saying as a teenager in a tiny town, there wasn't a whole lot to do. A trip out of town was big, but spending the night AND getting to play at the amusement park all day was HUGE.
My mom made me a new swimsuit...my first bikini. It's not one of those embarrassing homemade creations. My mom was a talented seamstress, she made my wedding dress.
ANYHOW, so we get to Des Moines mid afternoon the first day so I went down to the pool. My nephew and sister stayed in the room for whatever reason, so I was feeling oh-so-cool strutting around the pool in my new bikini by myself. I was a whopping 14 and was waiting for some cute boy to approach and profess his undying love.
You remember how it was at 14.
I was lying in the sun trying (in vain) to tan, but the sun was really hot so I jumped in the pool to cool off. After a few minutes, I pulled myself out of the pool. A boy, maybe about 16, was staring. I strode back to my lounge chair. The very picture of confidence and cool.
I took my seat. I wiped my dripping face with a towel, using the opportunity to check to see if he was still watching me.
I laid back in the chair, one leg stretched out, one bent at the knee (some magazine said this was the most flattering position for leg viewing.)
I closed my eyes and peeked at him through my lashes.
He was still checkin' me out.
I was so glad my sister wasn't around to rain on my parade. This was the stuff of books and movies! YES! I pictured us exchanging phone numbers and addresses and having QUITE the summer romance.
And that's when I realized my bikini top had slipped.
Oh, yes it did.
I oh-so-casually reached down to pull it back into position, and resumed sunning myself.
Funny thing. Mr. Hot Stuff lost all interest once I was covered again.