Beached In South Beach

WARNING: If you considerself obese or even overweight, or if you're unusually sympathetic to fat people, stop reading now and keep in mind that I have nothing against "full-figured" folk. Everyone's beautiful in their own special way.

So I was out at the beach with some friends today. One of the nice things about South Beach is that it's top-optional for the ladies, and most of the girls are beautiful latinas, coming from a culture that is less restrained than the theocratic puritanism of America. Although the fact that there is a top-optional beach in the US is perhaps evidence that the Hispanic community does have influence in Miami. Either way, this top-optional policy has made the beach scenery much nicer. Until today.

I usually have a code language to point my buddies to an "unbridled" beauty, which is essentially the fighter pilot's codespeak for positions of enemy fighters; a time of the day would indicate the position of the subject according to the position on the face of an analog clock. So if I say "three o'clock", a hot topless girl is directly to the right of us. Got it?

So at the "one-thirty" position, these big mamas (read: large African-American women) decide to take advantage of the top-optional policy, much to our chagrin (guys and girls alike). I couldn't help but marvel at how gravity has made their appearance quite like a thoroughly melted candle. Then one of my gawk-eyed buddies (whom I'll refer simply as "KA") broke the awkward silence:

KA: Man, staring at them makes me hungry
Me: For flapjacks?
KA: That's gross, man.
Me: With the ocean in the background, it looks like Sea World.
KA: Dude, you're going to hell! Looks more like the National
      Geographic Channel.

We were glad that those ladies are proud of their bodies, but we were hoping that they be proud of their bodies elsewhere on the beach. Now we just need some big white chicks at "ten-thirty" and we can have the Michelin Man VS. Shamu Faceoff.

KA's right. I'm going to hell.