5 reasons why I hate the beach.

Seriously. Get me out of here.


I am about to say four little words.

After I say these words, you may view me differently. You might think that I am a bad person, a person who gets a sinister thrill out of sucking the fun from her days. You might assume that I am a recluse. An outcast. A freak. You might think that I am more un-Australian than a pom in an All Black’s jersey.

But I’m going to say them anyway.


There. There, I said it. And I’m sorry if it offends you, I’m sorry if it upsets you, and I’m sorry if you need to shut this window and run outside for some thirty degree air because the confession I have just burdened you with is simply too much.

But, please. Let me help you understand my position. And maybe we can have this conversation in a really rational, respectful way that doesn’t involve you burying me up to my neck in the sand, leaving me to be eaten alive by ravenous seagulls. These are the five reasons why I don’t like the beach:

1. Salt water

Salt water is inferior water. It is. Its hydration properties are pitiful, meaning that it fails to serve the primary function water provides to the human race. It also burns your eyes to the same extent as chlorinated water, while not having any of the disinfecting properties. Oh, and, as a result, the water at the beach is guaranteed to be 99% organic toddler urine. Great.

See? Even people who like the beach hate sand.

2. Sand

When the omnipotent being  of your choice created sand, she/he was having an off day. A really off day.

Omnipotent being: Hey, I think I’m going to make something to cover up the gap between the ocean and the land.

Omnipotent being’s best mate: Wow! That sounds like a really great idea. Maybe you should make something that doesn’t get in people’s undies/bags/shoes/hair/noses, creating annoying and awkward itches while they enjoy those coastal vistas.

Omnipotent being: Nah.

Itchiness aside, the thing that really annoys me about sand is that it is just dirt. It is just GLORIFIED DIRT! But would you sit with your legs in a mound of soil saying: “I love feeling soil between my toes?” No. No you wouldn’t.


3. The Sun

This is not a joke. This is ‘lifeplace’ harassment from a racist sun.

I know it seems a little strange to direct negative energy against an inanimate celestial being, but I assure you, it’s justified. The sun is a dirty racist. It is. As an Anglo-Celtic person, it discriminates against me on a daily basis. Burns, peeling, and blistering are just some of the scars of mine and its relationship, which even gallons of sunscreen applied every 5 minutes can not manage to mediate.

(So, you can stop telling me that I should have worn sunscreen, you perfectly tanned person, because if you would so much as squeeze my little finger you could easily wring out two bottles worth.) It’s ‘lifeplace’ harassment, and I’m not going to just lie down naked and let it take advantage of me. Nuh-uh. On that note…

4. Public Nudity

Let me be clear here. I don’t have an issue with people being in the nud on the actual beach. If you wish to develop an even spread of skin cancer across your chest, you go for it. I do, however, have an issue when I’ve already driven twenty minutes away from the coast and there are still people wearing bikinis and budgie smugglers out in public… in Westfield. Am I saying that we should encourage local councils to map out the 2km radius around each beach and enforce standards of decent dress beyond this boundary? No. But I am insinuating it.

5. Security

Don’t take this the wrong way, beachlovers, but – just in case you hadn’t cottoned on to this already, I’m not your biggest fan. And that’s because you’re IDIOTS! Why would you put all of your valuables into a bag then walk 50m from said bag into a substance with a relatively high viscosity, which it is impossible to exit from quickly in an emergency? An emergency like having your bag stolen? I. Just. Can’t. Even.

There you have it. So next time you put me on one of those aptly titled Facebook events like “BEEEEACCCHHH :) :)” don’t be offended if I don’t reply. In fact, maybe you should stop adding me to those, before I start inviting you to “LAAZY DAAY IN MY AIIIR CONDITIOOONED HOOOUSEE WIIITH SOME FIILMS AND SSOOOME FROOOZEN FRUUUIT.”

Now that’s the sort of Aussie summer I could get into.

Mary is an intern at Mamamia, and a Media and Communications student from Sydney. She can do the splits, wiggle her ears and tell you who won Eurovision in 1973. You can follow her on Twitter here.

Are you avoiding the beach this summer? Or is it your favourite place to be?

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