Wearing a Speedo in Hawaii

 By the time you read this, I will be in Hawaii on a sandy beach wearing my Speedo, drinking a cold Pepsi, and eating Doritos.  I know I fasted and prayed with all you good people for enough snow that we could prosper in the land, but I couldn’t take it anymore.
I am not a good person.  I know that now.  After going to the emergency room two times in a week for falling on the ice I lost it. 
Maybe I bumped my head, maybe its cabin fever, maybe it’s being retired with nothing to do. Maybe it’s because Lynda-Lou brought me some sugar cookies that spiked my sugar levels so high that I lay on the floor counting dots on the ceiling for an hour.  I don’t know.
 All I do know is that it started snowing and it snowed all day and as I watched the snow pile up I couldn’t shovel one more $*&^%$# inch of snow. 
So I called my travel agent and said get me the ^*(%)^& out of here. 
And then I packed my toothbrush and my Speedo and donned my sunglasses and flew to Hawaii.
 I am not getting any younger and my belly isn’t getting any smaller, so I am not going to be body shamed into not wearing my Speedo. 
I may look like a bulbous walrus on the outside, but on the inside, I proudly honor some of my French ancestors. 
It doesn’t matter that it took me an hour to squeeze my Speedo on; if Mr. Incredible could get his superhero spandex uniform on after missing a few days at the gym, I too can suck it up enough to be legally covered.
Oh sure my sister-in-law just barfed as she envisioned my unshaved chest, a stylish Speedo, and my running shoes and white knee high socks pulled smartly up and me in all my glory lathered up with sun tan lotion strutting down the sandy beaches of Hawaii. 
But I am liberated and proud.  I haven’t felt this empowered since I covered my body from head to toe using Suave Honeysuckle new and improved volumizing shampoo in the shower.  I am living large!
Oh, don’t get me wrong.  I want the water that the snow brings.  I just want it in the lakes and in the bubbly gurgling stream with happy fish splashing about.  Not piled up in ten-foot piles like glaciers moving slowing to the ocean.
I tried to tell them, let’s just pray for enough snow to sustain ourselves, no reason to be greedy; but no they had to fast and pray for enough water to prosper in the land.  Well, there you have it. 
So prosperity is piling up in my drive way and I am in Hawaii sucking down a Pepsi and eating Doritos.  Am I proud of it?  Probably not, but I tried to tell my too kind and loving wife that I wasn’t a good person. 
I can’t do hard things.  I don’t like to fast and pray.  And I hate to shovel snow, break icicles off the house, salt the cement, rake the snow off the roof, and scrape the windows so I can see to drive.
But she is an optimist and thinks I have potential and that with a little work I will be a good church-going law abiding citizen that votes republican and has a 30-year mortgage, a dog and cat and drives our 3.6 kids to soccer practice in our minivan.
I told her to think of me more like a pudgy dog that likes to sleep in the sun, eat smelly food, wiggle my tail when someone scratches my belly, pee on a bush outside in an emergency, and has been known to pass gas occasionally.
The key to a happy marriage is expectations I always say.  I told her she should think of me more as Baloo in Jungle Book singing along, “Look for the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities.  Forget about your worries and your strife.”
So here I am in Hawaii trying to forget my worries and my strife singing, “Look for the bare necessities …..Oh man, that’s really livin’.  So just try and relax, yeah, cool it.”   
 I sip my Pepsi to avoid sunburning and ask my too kind and loving wife to lather me up with more sunscreen.  She laughs and declines and says, “I might have Covid and would rather wear a mask on the entire plane ride home.”  So, I start to self-lather and as I do some nice older lady just walks by and covers me with a towel and said, “The children.  Please for the children cover up.” 
My too kind and loving wife scoots her chair even further away from me, puts on a mask, big sunglasses and a hat and hides behind her magazine.  I dunno!
My snow shovel is stored by the front door if you want to borrow it.