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scotw

I strip down naked and put on my favorite outfit.
An American flag onesie that I bought in Charleston SC four years ago. I remember walking out of the store into a swamp of humidity, wondering with every step WTF I just spent $58 on. A tiny piece of material that awkwardly fit my body.
It’s a high-waist cut, making my already short torso appear shorter. It wedges up you-know-what in both the front and the back. It smashes my already small tits smaller. For some reason I have an insistent desire to wear it every 4th of July. And so I have. Today is year 4. Despite its’ offensive fit, I’m beginning to think that it was indeed, a wise purchase.
Today marks our half way point across the ocean. Dead center between departure and destination.
It also happens to be my favorite holiday. Fourth of July. I have no good reason for why this is my favorite holiday aside from it is a zero-pressure holiday. Boats. Beers. Friends. The outcome is typically fantastic. Today is bringing home the win.
I am celebrating my favorite day of the year, in my favorite outfit, in a gale, in the rain, alone. I’ve set up my self-timer to document this historic moment. The camera hangs from a sail tie in the companionway and oscillates with the swells. I take at least 37 self- timed photos before I get one with all body parts appropriately placed either inside my leotard or outside of the photograph. I smile big. It’s genuine. I am having a blast.
I prance around on deck to reef the main. Straps fall down my shoulders. Wedgie in full effect. It’s raining. The waves are… sizable. The wind is building and I don’t tether in because I am invincible in my American Flag suit. It howls 38 knots. We surf down swells at 11.3 knots. Four hours pass and this could be the first watch that I am not ready for to be over.
Although I can’t wait to wake Luke up. I’m ready to party. – Read on.