Tanning on Campus: Hate It

If you know me at all, you know that I like to maintain a certain sun-kissed glow all year round. I’ve even been accused of being “tanorexic,” a charge I can’t entirely deny. I love the sun; I love sunbathing. In between classes, walking in the Yard on a hot spring day, you might see me standing alone, eyes closed, facing up towards the sun, relishing the spare 60 seconds I have to get a hearty—albeit brief—dose of Vitamin D.

As a Quadling, the springtime weather beckons me outside to lounge in the grass and soak up the rays. When I do, however, I do so with the understanding that I’m still on the Harvard campus, not on a beach, at a pool, or at USC. Therefore, I don’t wear a bikini: I’ll wear something more conservative, like shorts and a tank top. It’s just plain awkward to be walking through the Yard or coming home to the Quad and see a girl stretched out on a towel, clad in a skimpy bikini.

This isn’t a feminist argument against bikinis (plus, look up the etymology of bikini and you’ll find a surprisingly powerful history). I just think it’s weird and inappropriate to wear a bikini in the Yard, only feet away from Faust’s office, or even in the more secluded Quad, where your House Master and dining hall staff can walk by and see your pasty thighs and jiggling boobs.

Besides the risk of running into a professor or TF in this situation, you’re also exposing yourself to a plethora of Harvard Square freaks: one minute you might be laying out, dozing off listening to John Mayer on your iPod, and the next minute, you look up and a homeless man is hovering over you jerking off. Seriously, it’s the Square—it’s probably happened. We go to school in an urban environment; bikinis just don’t belong here.