inhibitions? i submit no.

WARNING: the following tale of our Saturday adventure should be rated something, probably PG 40, for suspense and nudity. So, if these things bother you, I suggest hitting that little red X in the right-hand corner of your screen, and living your life in happy ignorance. But this is the funniest thing that's happened to me all year, so if you continue, be ye warned. I'm trying to keep it as kosher as it can be.

"I'm not getting in, guys. Especially not naked."
"Aw, c'mon, Marthie. You know you'll want this memory forever." Bec kept trying to persuade our friend to come down to the edge of the bluffs, all the while still looking rather uncertain herself as I slid down the rocks to the edge of the river. She often gets that look when she's following me. It was cool, but in a delicious sort of way, and as they made their way down to where I was, they had to avoid the jean and tank top trail I left behind me.

Have to admit, dark water is not my cup of tea. It takes me a while to nerve up and actually jump in--and it helped that the rock I was crouching on made me lose my footing and fall in anyway. Wasn't quite brave enough to shed the last essentials, not with people in sight distance. Because, get this; what we didn't realize when we first got there was that there was a family in a boat just around the corner from us, and I'm pretty darn positive their move across the river was because they heard us talking about stripping and didn't want their little girl scarred for life. That's most likely why the husband kept his eyes ever-so-firmly fixed on the opposite bank. But that's just a guess.

So Bec finally comes and joins me in the water, also still clothed in the bare essentials, and Martha is just standing there in the shallows, watching us tread water two dozen feet out, looking at us like she thinks we're insane. I know she thinks we're insane, and then I prove her right. I've never seen her eyes so big before, and they got even wider when she had to dodge flying undergarments, followed by our hysterical, I-can't-believe-I'm-doing-this laughter.

(I have to take a moment to let you know that, as I'm typing this, I'm still laughing. The kind of laughter where tears start leaking out of your eyes because it's just so darn funny.)

If you've never gone skinny dipping, let me tell you, it's a wild time. I'm in love. But the whole time I couldn't help thinking about that little fish in the Amazon that...well, never mind. Let's just say I had some more adrenaline in my system than was warranted by being naked in a relatively public place, in broad daylight. Darn imagination.

We played in the water for probably twenty minutes, trying to get Martha to join us. I got pretty far out in the river at one point. I mean, it was almost sundown, not many boaters, who was going to come? But our persuasion had just started to work--she'd gotten her shirt off, at least--and then, we hear it. Male voices on the rocks above us. Lots of them.

I think I screamed. Softly. I mean, yeah, so the idea was funny, but did I actually want to get caught naked in the middle of a river? I submit NO.

Let me explain the geography for you. If we had headed straight back for the towels, there's no way in heck we would have made it. We would have been stuck, half out of the water, exposed to the harsh, cruel world. So we swim up under the bluff and try to become one with the rocks. I don't think I've ever swum that fast before. There was some hyperventilating going on, some panic, some muffled hysterical laughter, and we're just clinging to this rock and trying to hide, like Adam and Eve except not, we don't want an Adam, we want Adam to GO AWAY. We can actually see, through the bushes, about three guys come to the edge of the bluff. They say hi to Martha, and I'm thinking, oh no, I didn't actually want to get caught, what if they come down and jump in!? But they pull back from the top, and we're hissing at Martha and telling her to bring us our towels, but she can't because it's too deep for her to get over; and so she balls up our bras and underwear and chucks them at us.

They promptly get stuck in an overhanging tree about halfway there.

Yes, I know. Trust me, I know.

I see my favorite sports bra sinking, and I go, screw this, I like that one, and I leave the rock, simultaneously trying to rescue my dignity and protect my virtue at the same time, fishing for my clothing and craning my neck to see if anybody's looking. Let me tell you, trying to do all this, and keep your head above water, while pulling on undergarments at the same time...hysterical.

I eventually flail enoughh to get Bec's stuff out of the crazy tree and tossed it back to her, and she goes through the same contortions to get it back on while staying hidden, and we finally...finally...got back to the towels. And up the rock. And past the newly set up camp of the four guys who interrupted our swim. If they hadn't decided to set up before they swam...if Martha had already been in the water...if we hadn't swum to the rocks like Jaws was chasing us...Oh. My.

Best college memory EVER.