Pixie in Paradise

I tricked myself into thinking that walking the beach in midmorning during the full moon would be safe. Spoiler alert: it was safe in a manner of speaking. I am fine, no scratches on my body, just in my mind. No biggie, we will add it to the others. 

After 15 years spent working the emergency room during full moons and worse, full moon night shifts, I had proof over and over again of the power the full moon held on nature, including all living creatures. Humans are made of over 70% water, give or take, and we know the full moon is strong enough to turn the ocean’s tides. Clearly it is powerful enough to mess with human chemistry. Specifically, we see this in a person’s mentation, we saw it a lot in the hospital admissions. If people seemed to struggle with mental health issues regularly, the full moon would enhance those and make them quite difficult to deal with when werewolves are also rumored to come out. I remember increased incidents of stabbings and gunshot wounds, cardiac arrests and fun stuff you’d only see on a rowdy night like a full moon occurrence. People who claim Mercury Retrograde is to blame for all of their bad behavior on other days must go absolute bat shit crazy on a full moon.

Today for beach walking I wanted to strut my stuff to pay homage to nature while in my gold one-piece swimsuit. It was a bright sunny, golden morning and I wanted to match that vibe. I truly didn’t think we’d have issues. Truly. Let me be honest: it is a one-piece swimsuit but “one piece” meaning, it is a very small shiny rectangle – think shoe box cover size…ladies shoe sizes. The gold rectangle is tied on with a long, gold “shoelace”. It’s like having a phone charging cord flossing your butt. If only it was that useful! My point is, it lets a lot of skin see sunlight, and who gives a fuck? I’m on a beach, all necessary body parts are covered. I’m not twerking in front of a kindergarten class, I wasn’t twerking at all – my buns are too small to even make that work. I was merely walking and absorbing a little sun and the glorious nature, so leave me alone.

There were awkward stares and people forgot how to say hello. I could have been imagining all of this but I walk that beach every morning in a different small swimsuit every day and never get quite that many odd reactions. But no matter the swimwear, it’s obvious when a couple is walking the beach and they get close enough to pass by. You can tell the heterosexual couples with really insecure women. It’s obvious they’ve given their men enough shit in the past for interacting with other women. The men are too scared to look in my direction. It’s as if they attempt to smile at me their invisible shock collars will go off. The wife or girlfriend of course possesses control of the imaginary remote device that delivers the jolts for staring at the wrong jugs. Seriously though, I do not have jugs and certainly don’t have cleavage up top – my butt barely has cleavage! Come on people, just let a pixie frolic down the beach!

Then there was one man near the beach whose brain function just straight up reverted to that of a lower-functioning mammal. I can only describe it as between a teenage human male and a poop-flinging monkey, somewhere in the middle of that. As I headed north on the narrow strip of sand between extremely high tidewaters and jungle trees, I saw him. The man was riding a bright red scooter down the dirt road between the beach and a nice resort hotel. I thought he would ride right past me but I slowed down briefly, just in case, and hid behind the greenery to see if I could time it so that I wouldn’t be seen through the next jungle clearing he was coming up on. I call them jungle portals. It’s this beautiful natural creation where the jungle is opened up because of a pathway between the beach and a quiet road, but all around it is dense foliage. Every time I see one of these openings I feel the earth’s magic. 

This time I felt no magic and instantly knew something was about to go wrong. It was palpable. I turned back casually to look behind me. The man and his scooter were a safe distance back in the direction I had just walked, so I continued forward. As I continued forward though, I suddenly glimpsed the red scooter parked along the road opposite my path and the man was in front of it near the beach that I was walking on. 

The roar of the waves kept me from hearing the scooter. I kept walking but knew I shouldn’t have my back turned on him anymore so I again casually turned around, pretending to admire the waves and jungle trees. And I did admire them, while scanning to see where this loser was at. Turns out he was closer to me than my comfort level allowed and he seemed to be slowly walking toward me – WITH HIS JUNK OUT. I still had my super dark sunglasses on so it was a little hard to see but I was able to make out that he was walking out of the jungle towards the sand – and me – with some or all of the contents of his shorts in his hands. It’s a weird sight as it is, but my brain took a few extra seconds to try and process a man with his cock and balls out seemingly headed my way on a public beach. I turned back around and continued to walk the direction I was already headed, but more quickly. I opened my waterproof bag and hurriedly got my phone out and set it to video in case he was going to come at me. I knew I would record this guy and blast his face all over the local social media forums if I had to to keep me and other women safe. Luckily he didn’t continue too far forward before turning around and leaving but the experience definitely made me shaky, because adrenaline started coursing through my body.
That idiot needed to understand – but thankfully didn’t find out – that when it comes to the fight or flight response, I am ALL fight. The pixie in the golden shoelace was about to ruin your day – and maybe your chances of ever having children – if you try to mess with me. You can’t just rock out with your cock out here. It’s not that kind of beach! Also sir, I’ve seen way bigger (WAY bigger) “fruits” coming at me than that (think extra large plantains and papayas), so show someone else what you’re smuggling in those shorts. Your tiny plums and baby banana will never, ever do it for me. (Okay, maybe not papayas, that’s obnoxious and a tiny bit exaggerated).