Shark Bait


{Wearing: Bikini: c/o Vix Paulahermanny Zaz Ripple Triangle Bikini and matching Tie-Side Bottom. Sunnies: c/o Marilyn Monroe Eyewear Elsie in Vintage Glitter. Photographed by Jorge Camaraza.}

I love a Vix Paulahermanny bikini. There’s something about the cut that fits perfectly. Ever. Single. Time. Especially the bottom. And oh, if bikinis could talk, the story this one would tell. You see, I took it on my recent trip to Key Largo for Memorial Day weekend. It just so happens that day one of the trip included a snorkeling trip on a boat with one of the most beautiful reefs I’ve ever seen before in my life. OK, it’s actually the second only reef I’ve ever seen before in my life because that whole fear of the ocean thing (fish touching me, total fear of sharks, swimming in something that’s basically another planet) is real. I’d been snorkeling once before in Mexico a million years ago. And it was such a cool experience—until I got the creeps, realized I was swimming in a giant aquarium and freaked out. I actually started climbing on top of people to get out of the water in a version of “When Snorkeling Goes Horribly Wrong.” So the idea of Ginger Goes Snorkeling: The Sequel was one that took some major mental wrapping around to get into.

And then the time came. Time to take the plunge. So I did. Mostly, because I didn’t want Milly to take on my same fears, so I put on my brave face and showed her there was nothing to be afraid of. At first, all good. Mills was looking down at the water, talking about brain coral. Then, Jorge realized we’d drifted too far out from the boat, thanks to the tide, and had to pull a rescue mission. Mills opted out after that because of the heavy jellyfish population.

I, however, was willing to give it another go. Why? Stepping outside of my box. So, I popped onto the raft, put on my mask and stuck my face into the water. We’ll call this the way chicken shits snorkel. Something between me and the sea life beneath me was A-OK, especially the jellyfish. A few minutes later, I looked down and saw right beneath me the mother of things I’m deathly afraid of—a shark. And not a nurse shark either. A legit, Jaws-theme-music shark. The kind that rip off your legs and leave you looking like a battered toy box Barbie. I lifted my head out of the water and yelled at the boat, “What the hell is that?” Anyone who knows me for more than five minutes knows I have a weird paranoia that there’s a shark out there gunning for my legs, possibly an arm and my left butt cheek. It’s what’s kept me out of the water for the majority of my life. And the reason why, over the years, posts like this have found their way into words on my blog.

So, here I am, the world’s biggest shark-fearing baby, on a raft in the water with a shark. I lifted up my feet, pulled my arms into the raft and proceeded to freak out.

“It’s a nurse shark,” the boat screamed back at me. Guess what? It wasn’t, as filmed here by Poseidon, my fearless boyfriend, who dove down and followed it (seriously, Jorge, what is wrong with you?????), until it whipped and nae nae-ed. Then he resurfaced and told me to get out of the water … now (audible on the video). See around minutes 2:06.

Looking back at the whole experience, I can’t decide if I’m proud of myself or incredibly freaked out. What I do know is my arms and legs are still attached, and I have one hell of a story to tell about something I never ever ever imagined I’d be able to share.

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{Before realizing I was shark bait.}

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{And after. Check out minutes 2:19}