The images are fabulous, don't get me wrong, and seeing gorgeous models frolicking in the blue tropical waters during the depths of winter can be amazingly tempting.
But there is still a palpable cheese factor. Those photos and TV ads are too perfect. You never see the overly intoxicated fat guy, the crying baby, the bitchy wife. No, you see a mirage of sensuous tranquility, an ideal that only your mind bent on resort porn could conjure up.
But my husband and I are headed to one at the end of the month for a few days -- a quick getaway to paradise.
But we're keeping it real.
|Here we are on arrival. Look, we have the whole place to ourselves!|
|A quick embrace by our private pool after our dip in the sea. Oh, and is that Champagne? I really miss Ellie right now! What an epic game of CHD we could have if she was here!|
|Amazing how quickly our hair bleached out in the desert sun, isn't it? And, wow, look at my ass! Hey, is he going to bite me?|
|Don't think we only stay poolside. No. We rock climb. And pose. And always, always, always have our bodies touching.|
|Here I am luxuriating in some private time at the spa. Now you see everything but my fine ass.|
|And this, my favorite shot, of us embracing in the dying rays of the sun setting over the Sea of Cortez.|
See? We have absolutely no elevated expectations. We are keeping it real.