Swim Trunks

My favorite years in school were eighth grade and freshman year of college. College wins. But eighth grade was pretty sweet. The majority of the class had known each other since kindergaten or first grade. We had done the schools plays (I was a Christmas tree, shepherd, and fairy), the standardized tests, field trips (including a dominos break-in), we played soccer together at recess (I never scored, but had one sweet assist) and we (boys and girls included) cried at graduation.

Part of graduation was a party at a classmate's bay house. Of course this was the coolest thing since my girlfriend punched a boy from another school who was hassling us at a dance in 7th grade—boy/girl party, swimming, knee boarding, jumping off docks, sunburns. Flippin' sweet. Only one problem...as much as those boys were our friends, we girls didn't want the boys checking out our booties...so we covered up with shorts over our racing suits.

It must have been that Catholic school modesty.

But I'm proud to say we weren't covering up because we thought we were fat...we thought we were hot. And in a society with eating disorders and poor body images—a round of applause for a little conceited modesty.