Jean Michel Cousteau Resort, Vanua Levu, Fiji Islands
Allow me a moment to be an utter pig.
I think women in wet-suits are completely hot. I don't have any idea why. But it so works for me.
But it's not just that.
Diving is one of those sports. Close quarters on boats. Hot sun. Sweat and bikinis, no makeup, no nonsense, tan, healthy people. There are glimpses of flesh exposed by mistake. Sometimes a flash of a breast or something, or even a flash of more if you're lucky. I've seen everything, from women changing as if there's no one else there, to unknown exposure, to accidental flashes I've been caught looking at. But even lesser exposure is delightful, a woman who's wiggling out of a wet suit or rashie and showing off some bit of flesh she doesn't know she's showing. A tummy she doesn't like, but that I like very much. A bikini bottom askew and showing a bit of bottom that's quite decent but still naughty for the fact that it wasn't meant to show.
I live for this stuff.
I fall in love with women dive-masters all the time. Beautiful, fantastic women; Kendra Choquette of Dive Makai on Kona. Pauline Severns, Mike Severns wife, on Maui. Linda Bail/Marsh, who owns Bubbles Below on Kauai, and a woman named Debbie who used to dive master for her a few years back. And more whose names I've forgotten, two lovely lovely ladies who worked for Flamingo Divers on Provo, TCI, a couple of other hotties who used to work for Dive Makai. I regret that there seem to be no women dive masters working here.
Let me add that, as an almost absolute rule, women are better dive masters. So this isn't in any way disrespect; these women are good at the job, and that, frankly, is part of why I love them. And when I say love them, let me just say 'Kendra' again, because... Well, if you've met her, you know, she's a keeper, and I will admit the sin of envy when I think of her new husband. Lucky man, Matthew.
So today, I spent the day admiring a truly beautiful woman on our dive boat who, I'm reasonably sure, had no idea she was being admired, and who I suspect has no idea she's startlingly pretty.
What is it with women who don't know they're pretty? It seems to make them even prettier. I know a few like this; they are absolute eye candy and don't know it.
This woman -- whose name I for some reason can't recall -- is of that category. She's a tallish girl with a large nose and full, luscious hips. What I'd call you ideal figure. Lovely ass, lovely swell of belly, breasts that are a hand-full and a little more, but nothing wasted. She has tan, full, beautiful legs. In a bikini, in a rashie and sarong skirt, in a wetsuit, she was an absolute delight to behold, and I spent much of the day picturing the nasty, nasty things I wanted to do to her. But honestly, what I really wanted was to sit next to her and just say "You are gorgeous, absolutely fucking gorgeous". But as usual, I fear it will come across as a pickup line or just as weird and creepy, when all I want to do is share a heartfelt compliment. I bet she thinks her nose is too big. I'm sure she doesn't like her belly, she kept covering it. I bet she thinks she's fat, that her hips are too full, her thighs too large, her butt fat. She's wrong; she's fantastic. Completely fantastic. She doesn't know it.
I have this whole poem I want to write about women who don't know they're beautiful. I can't quite find the words though. Still, poetry escapes me.
But it's not just this one. I sat next to, and admired, a small, slight blond the last two trips, and spent time enjoying her form in a wetsuit; and even an older too-rich-too-thin type with bad fake boobs who looks almost old enough to be a granny; still, I like her in a wet suit. Dammit, I don't care what shape or size, you put a girl in a wet-suit, I'm going to like it.
Ladies, I'll warn you in advance. If I dive with you, I will be looking at you. I'll be trying to catch a peek when you're getting in and out, I'll be looking at your cleavage when you bend over, I'll be looking at your ass.
But I'll love you, every inch of you. I'll love the parts you don't like. I'll love the parts you think are your flaws. And when I admire you, in your wet suit or out of it, it'll be with a sort of respect I can't possibly explain, but still, it is with respect. Just because I'm picturing doing evil things to you, does not mean I don't respect you. Just, you know, take my word for it. And do you need some help with that zipper?