One of my favorite things about summer is the absence of resorts for most of the population. Perhaps according to polls, more than half of Spaniards are ashamed to show their bodies, but what’s the use of showing what the other half want without hiding it? Pools, rivers, and beaches are littered with people wearing over size 44, but advertisements insist we fit in at least 38.
What I see is a reality that everyone can see, different from what the shop windows show. If you don’t have bomb-proof confidence, a personality based on years of experience (which you don’t), or its flaws, being a teenager now and trying to find clothes is the closest thing to going to hell. , an XS body with almost no curves. Otherwise, one can fall into misery: dresses that pull on shoes, bikinis that barely strap, or tailored suits, and tight trousers that you can only wear when you shave your legs. It doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl.
The tyranny of extreme thinness rules. You are what others see or think you are. Therefore, the star gift when they finish high school is breast enlargement and muscles are taught as a love claim for flirting. That’s why I love the glorification of flesh shown on beaches and swimming pools, against the dictatorship of the absence of the body. We’re flawed, we have cellulite, stretch marks, and grooves that are all traces of what we’ve been through, and you can wear a bikini after delivery or cesarean section. Also, there is no need to smooth wrinkles and iron or stretch your face until you become expressionless. I love to see life shown in its glory, grandparents and their grandchildren, traces of the passage of time, as well as the glimmer of absence, on the vanilla and chocolate skins of children playing disregarding any aesthetic imperatives. sand owners, yes, a summer they believe is eternal but for adults it is nothing more than the threshold of the next winter.