Ecstasy on the Beach (a memoir)

The pressure finally gone, the rest of my body slackened. I had never even realized I had armpit muscles, but then I noticed those relaxed too. It was this cozy sensation like getting a really good backrub. But this was one experience that I would have to enjoy alone.

Never mind that my denim shorts and t-shirt were sopping wet. And disregard the fact that salt had attached itself to my leg hairs, which would make me itch the rest of the day. Oh, and I’m sure I failed to mention that sand was permanently embedded in my underwear, irritating that delicate panty-line area.

I was in Jr. High, and our family was on a road trip along the coast of California. I had been holding in my pee longer than felt humanly possible, and when we stopped to see the beach, I knew my time had come. Pretending like I was actually having fun sitting in 5 inches of ice cold ocean water, I let it all go—horrified at the idea that someone might figure out what I was doing. But that thought quickly faded as warmth swirled around me.