Mr. Speedo-man

Bless His Little Speedo Heart!

While vacationing in Florida, a particular gentleman graced our presence daily on the beach. He strolled by rows of lounge chairs filled with relaxing beach bums with an unrivaled level of confidence, wearing a tiny Speedo. His wife (or escort, for all I know) followed behind him- a courtesy act for observers since her trailing habit obstructed an even more revealing view of Mr. Speedo’s exposed cheeks.

“Oh, no,” my sister muttered sympathetically as her sunshine-induced slumber was interrupted by our muffled giggles. In true Southern form, she continued her lament with, “Well, bless his heart.” (Generally, for one to receive a “bless his/her/your heart” Southern expression, one must have experienced some misfortune or tragedy that was not self-inflicted.)

My husband could barely contain himself as we watched the man who had instantly become a local celebrity, solely based on his beach fashion choice of attire. Josh used no discretion to muffle his laughter and decided that all members of our vacation clan must be informed of this hilarious attempt of presenting oneself gracefully by clothing one’s body in eye-catching swimwear. He had to get our aunts’ attention before Mr. Speedo man would become aware of his growing audience of onlookers.

“HEY…Pssssst!” Josh leaned forward and got the attention of Kim and Renee, in what he probably thought was the volume level of a whisper. (I’ve learned that husbands are incapable of utilizing appropriate vocal volume levels in situations that call for discreet and secretive communication- especially if humor is involved.) After successfully getting their attention- and that of all other loungers within earshot of a trumpeter, my husband pointed out what he deemed as the most hilarious ensemble thus far on our trip. More laughter ensued from surrounding chairs that resembled that of hyenas.

Trying to compose myself, I reached into my sandy beach bag to ensure that my camera would witness and capture this moment forever. Not wanting my target to startle by making a carelessly noticeable portrait of him, I first aimed my lens at the ocean directly in front of me. “Hurry up!” - Josh worriedly exclaimed, fearing that my delayed camera-grab response time had already been too long. “I don’t want him to notice me. He might get mad or embarrassed,” I said to my anxious companion.

Without missing a beat, my sister retorted, “If he didn’t want anyone to notice, he wouldn’t have worn that.” My aunt chimed in, “I think the back is worse than the front. His little buttcheeks are just hangin’ out all over the place.” My camera shook as I laughed even harder, attempting to stay focused on my photography goal of documenting Speedo-man on film for all eternity. I successfully preserved a historical event that took place in Panama City, Florida that day.

My sister, Tracie, verbally continued her thought reasoning process as she assessed the happenings before her. “I mean, I just don’t get it,” she said. “His wife is all covered up. Look, she’s wearing a hat and one-piece with a skirt…not to mention, she has a cover-up over all that. What’s she doing with him?” “She should have stopped him,” I responded as I delved into my sister’s need for an explanation that I was unable to provide. More cameras and phones were now pointing in the direction of the odd couple, but thankfully neither Mr. nor Mrs. (or just Ms.- we don’t want to assume relationship status, now do we?) Speedo-man had not become aware of his growing popularity on the shore of PCB. 

As my initial reaction of laughter subsided, I began to feel some admiration for the man who had captured the attention of all who looked upon his pasty, exposed façade. He was SO confident. How in the world did he carry himself without any regard for what society may think of him? I had been debating on my own bathing suit selection for the duration of our vacation. However, this man woke up that morning, pulled his spandex over his man-parts (I’ll keep it clean, here), and strolled onto the beach to soak up some sun.  I imagine that he took one last glance into his room’s full-length mirror before heading out that day.

In my assumed pretense of a normal day in the life of Speedo-man, he pauses and says to his mirror image, “You look fantastic. Knock ‘em dead. Don’t let any haters get you down- they’re just jealous.”

To summarize one of the most shocking, hilarious moments of my vacation- I’ll conclude with 10 things I learned from this man:

1.    Don’t give a sand dollar (or insert other clever beachy expletive replacement) about what people think of you- Be yourself.

2.    People may stare at you, but you’ll get a better tan by wearing less clothing.

3.    Never hesitate to parade in front of lots of people, holding your head high…no matter what because you’re awesome.

4.    If others who accompany you are not dressed in similar attire, you’ll ensure that you get more attention from people.

5.    By wearing one stylish/eye-catching accessory, you can distract from other parts of your body that you feel less comfortable focusing on. Play up your strengths with bold selections and wear them confidently! 

 

6.    A tight swimsuit at the beach will prevent seaweed and kelp from entering and becoming trapped under your garments, reducing risk of a messy post-beach-trip body cleanup.

7.    Accentuate your hot body curves by strategically placing your hands on your hips for photographs.

8.     Don’t worry about what everyone else is doing- do your own thing and enjoy it!

9.    When people notice your flaws, they also notice something about you that is admirable.

    10.  Being the recipient of a Southern “Bless your heart” automatically    means you- or something about you- is liked or loved by all.

 Still, all learning set aside- Unless you look like this, don't wear a Speedo. Just...please...DON'T. :)