Windleblo - Day Nineteen

Today's topic was intended to be about how we battled squalls during the wee hours the last couple of nights.

But after I told the Coach about yesterday's topic and today's plan for the blog, he said, "Nobody wants to read about that stuff. Tell them about the mermaids we've seen, or the fact that you've taken to wearing women's underwear."

It's not true that we've seen mermaids. I won't lie about that. I've written about the Coach's delusions in past blog posts, so I wouldn't doubt that he may indeed believe he's seen mermaids. But other than dolphins early on, we haven't seen much sea life, imaginary or real, on this voyage.

It is true, though, that the other day the guys did see me in women's underwear.

In my defense, the further south we've gone, the hotter it's gotten. The boxer shorts I was wearing up North have become insufferable. But John Hoopes unwittingly provided me with an alterative.

In Las Palmas, he was collecting women's underwear from his friends on the "GirlsForSail" boat down the dock (see girlsforsail.com for more) to haul up into the rigging along with the decorative flags encouraged by the ARC organizers to create a "festive mood." His reasoning was that if we spiced up the display, we were sure to win the "best decorated boat" award.

Near our home in Colorado, it is common to see trees adjacent to ski lifts adorned with mardi gras beads, women's bras and panties, and all manner of signs and symbols of a good time. John thought a similar display would be effective for the ARC.

Somehow, he got sidetracked and the panties never ended up in the yard arms. But they did get mixed up with my clean clothes when they came back from the laundry, providing just the alternative to boxers I was looking for.

Then it rained. Spontaneously, I stripped down to enjoy a natural rain shower on the deck. For whatever reason, none of the other guys joined me. There I was beneath the mainsail getting a good rinse in nothing but my "girly panties" with the guys looking on from the cockpit. Now I will never hear the end of it.

Unabashedly, I pranced back through the cockpit to the aft cabin. I took off the panties and put on a pair of "mankini" style swimwear I had bought in Italy last year when it was similarly hot. Modeling them for the guys, I asked what was the difference between the male swimwear and the women's underwear?

Laughing uproariously, they admitted I did have a point.

After Rodney Bay, I'll return to Denver for Christmas. On my Christmas list is a few pairs of proper men's bikini underwear to use upon my return to the Caribbean.

By the way, John has started growing his hair long. He now wears a women's hair beret to keep his bangs out of his eyes. Should I tease him about it?