I spent this weekend doing my best interpretation of stuntin’ for the ‘Gram.
Friday evening, C and I finally fulfilled a big Cleveland summer bucket list item: find friends with a boat to cruise Lake Erie the Cuyahoga River. We’ve done the happy hour tour on the Goodtime III, but crave the private boat experience every time we hit the beach. A work event at a yacht club brought us to our destiny and it was every bit as stuntastic as we imagined it would be. Especially riding back to the yacht club at the end of the night, listening to “Big Pimpin'” while watching the downtown Cleveland lights sparkle against the water.
Saturday, after nursing a “Wait, I didn’t know cider did THAT” hangover, we met up at Edgewater Beach, where we spent a gray afternoon talking shit over homemade spiked popsicles. I took lots of swimsuit thirst trappy Instagram photos, which I hadn’t done in awhile. Thanks to a seven-month onslaught of hormonal acne and a softening midsection, I’ve been less than my cocky self, but the bitch was back in full force on Saturday.
Sunday, I finessed my way into my apartment complex’s pool to get brown and read The Witching Hour by Anne Rice. Despite a spirited group of pre-teen girls who didn’t understand why I’d put on a bathing suit if I wasn’t getting in the water (TO GET BROWN AND BE HALF NAKED ON INSTAGRAM. DUH!), it was a pleasant afternoon and I came in just-shy of Kelly Rowland-brown.
So yeah. This weekend was shorter on culture than my normal “get out of the house” outings. It’s summer–what’s the point of being a single, childless adult if not to brazenly enjoy my freedoms?