When Trent & I were first dating, he took me to Maggie Island for a weekend.
If thought this was to be a lovely relaxing weekend I was wrong. The first indication that that this may not be a pleasant experience was the initial Booking Of The Hotel. Everything I suggested was gross. Cane Furniture? Rejected. Floral bedspread? Rejected. No ocean view? Rejected. No spa? REJECTED.
Since we got there Trent had raved about this amazing cove he found ‘accidently’ when he was 17, so to shut him up I agreed to go. He told me it was a nice little 10 minute stroll to get there.
Well that was the first lie.
It took us a good 30 minutes trekking uphill. Had I known this was going to be such an arduous climb I would have worn those long kakki pants with all the pockets, boots & those trekking sticks you use. I was in swimmers, sarong & thongs. That’s right. So unbeknownst to my fellow companion I was starting to chaff like a marthertrucker. We were still a little fresh at that stage, so I did not feel I could reveal the fire that was starting to burn just below my special lady area.
When we saw the 2 posts at the entry and the incredible view I realised why we had come. As we walked into the entrance something happened. A great big shiny chocolate biscuit with hairy grapes attached confronted me. Or rather it was an old dude in the nude casually reading the paper and sunbaking. He had a hat on. Of course he had a hat on. I mean, you need to protect your HEAD from the sun don’t you? When I looked around there was lots of people naked. Starkers. All The Bits Out There. Did I mention naked? Trent was all trying to get me out of there & I said to him no WAYS in the world was I leaving. I had a fire in my pants that needing some attention, so I marched my sizzling thighs into the ocean and just sat there. Oh the pleasure. Chaff is no laughing matter people.
So we got naked. I felt air in places I never knew existed. Trent swore he “never knew”. Lies. I said to him, listen here you lying turd – you only have to ply me with alcohol and tell me I’m pretty if you want to see me naked. BALDING BAY is a pretty good indication that there is going to be lots of BALD PEOPLE there. Lots.
So anyway all in all in was a good experience I suppose. I might do it again but I’ve just had a baby and I’ve got the worst orange peel thighs you can imagine. One day I may take my Great Beam of Sunshine there and we can all get our tackle out and pretend we are Adam and Eve with the kid but for now I will just be happy with me togs, big gal board shorts and some chlorine. And a hat, don’t forget the hat.