Shoddy Wetsuits and Spotty Tans

You could say that my wetsuit lacks luster. You could also say it belongs in the trash bin. The high quality and unmatched style of avant-garde brand, Body Glove just can’t wrap its finger around my surfability and it starting to wear down a bit.

I don’t care to wear my seal suit as much as some do, but the dear old thing has given me the privilege of some long winter sessions. Thankfully, I live in a place where I rarely have to dust off the old 4:3 and can usually stick to my trusty 3:2, but if the weather dial were at my control, bareback would be in fashion all year long. The bare minimum is just fine for me.

Some "classic" minimalists would like to claim, “the leash ruined surfing,” which I would be a full supporter of if those kids were ballsy enough to also claim, “the wetsuit ruined surfing.” The wetsuit was just as much a contributor to the over popularity of surfing (or whatever you have a stick about), if not more so, than the leash. It’s like the body glove was the gateway drug to the lethal and highly addictive leash. To successfully get through the 12 step program to pure surfing, peeling of the black skin would be right behind going leashless. Let’s see the hipsters pull that one off.

But we modern folks do have a stifling disadvantage against the prewetsuit era considering fires on the beach are now prohibited. Even so, wetsuits seem to be a much easier (lazier) alternative to ten-minute sessions broken up by jaunts to the shore for a little time to defrost before running back out again. No wonder surfing was for the lowlife. Everyone must have thought they were insane, running back and fourth like that, freezing their neopreneless bums off.

Those brave billions today, sitting inside of their toasty, snug and hip designer suits, still must face the winter forces. Booties, gloves, leashes, hoods, electric heating suits and any other steel found at the Dive and Surf sidewalk sale, does just fine for all these 60 degree water South-Bayers.

I don’t particularly want to add every gadget to my neoprene costume, or look like those high-horse hipsters, and can't quite muster the strength to go bareback all year long, so I am stuck. I am stuck with a cheep wetsuit with no less than six holes, one of which being about five inches in diameter, centering itself presumptuously in the middle of my back. So now I have a lovely amoeba shaped winter tan: a battle wound of a little girl that is too proud and too poor to put on any other costume.



*Donations can be made in cash, check or neoprene.