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MidReal Story
The Bikini Diaries
Scenario:About a woman who likes wearing only a two piece bikini everyday and everywhere
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Ella Jenkins
She is a determined woman who defies societal norms by wearing a twopiece bikini every day, anywhere. Ella is resilient, independent, and confident. She faces ridicule and disapproval from those around her, including her conservative father, but remains steadfast in her choice of attire. Her determination to express herself freely leads to humorous and challenging situations. Despite external criticism, Ella remains proud and unapologetic in her decision to embrace comfort and selfexpression.
Dad
He is a conservative man who struggles to understand his daughter's lifestyle choices. He is traditional, stern, and disapproving. He frequently criticizes Ella for wearing a bikini in public, calling it immodest. His reactions often highlight the generational gap between him and Ella, who sees freedom in her choice. Despite their differences, he continues to support Ella financially, showing a mix of love and frustration with her rebellious nature.
Grandma
She is a warmhearted woman who secretly supports Ella's independence. Grandma is understanding, encouraging, and supportive. She occasionally provides Ella with a sense of acceptance by praising her boldness in public. Although she does not openly challenge Dad's disapproval, her actions imply a silent endorsement of Ella's choices. Grandma serves as a stabilizing influence in the family, helping balance out the conservative views of others.
I put on my favorite two-piece bikini, the one I wear every single day, no matter where I go.
I know what you’re thinking: "Does she really wear a bikini every day?"
Yes, I do.
I wear it to the grocery store, to pick up my kids from school, to run errands, and even to family dinners.
My dad is not happy about it.
He says I’m being disrespectful and immodest.
I say I’m just being me.
And I’m not apologizing for it.
"Good morning, Grandma!"
I say as I pour myself a bowl of cereal.
"Good morning, dear," Grandma says as she sips her coffee and reads the newspaper.
"Are you going out today?"
"Yes, I have a few things I need to get done. I’m going to the bank and then to the post office."
Grandma looks up from her paper and smiles at me.
"I’m sure you will turn many heads."
I smile back at her.
"Thanks for your support, Grandma. You know Dad is still not happy about my decision to wear a bikini every day?"
"Your father just wants what’s best for you, dear," Grandma says as she puts down her paper and looks at me.
I finish my cereal while we chat about what Dad said this morning.
Standing up from the kitchen table, I grab my purse and phone and make sure I have everything I need for my errands.
The cool morning air hits my exposed skin as I walk toward the front door.
My flip-flops click against the hardwood floor, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror.
The teal bikini is perfectly in place, and my blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail.
I can see Mrs. Peterson from next door watering her plants through the window.
She’s already giving me her usual disapproving stare.
I step outside, ready to face the world on my own terms.
I pause at my front gate, adjusting the strap of my beach bag while Mrs. Peterson waters her roses.
Her disapproving stare burns into my exposed back, but I straighten my shoulders and check my reflection in my phone screen.
The teal fabric gleams in the morning sun.
My grandmother's words echo in my mind, reminding me to stay true to myself.
Taking a deep breath, I turn toward Mrs. Peterson, who quickly averts her eyes and pretends to focus on her flowers.
"Good morning, Mrs. Peterson," I call out, forcing a smile.
She hesitates, then replies, "Morning. Off to the beach again?"
"Nope," I say, meeting her gaze. "Just living my life."
While she bends down to pull some weeds near her prized rose bushes, I notice she’s left her gardening shears on the ground.
I edge closer to her garden fence, pretending to check my phone.
Mrs. Peterson is too engrossed in her plants to notice me.
When she disappears behind her large hydrangea bush, I slip through the gate and tiptoe toward her roses.
The thorns scratch my bare stomach as I reach for a particularly beautiful pink bloom.
My fingers wrap around the stem, and I quickly snip it with the abandoned shears.
I hear a voice behind me, low and amused.
"Stealing flowers now, are we?" It's Jake, the neighbor's teenage son, leaning against the fence with a smirk.
I straighten up, holding the rose like a trophy. "Borrowing," I correct him, grinning.
I hold the stolen rose behind my back, feeling the soft petals brush against my exposed lower back.
Jake's eyes follow my movements as I step closer to him.
The morning sun warms my teal bikini, and I can feel his gaze lingering on my skin.
His grin widens when I pull out the rose with a flourish.
The thorny stem pricks my finger, drawing a tiny bead of blood, but I ignore it.
Through the fence, I hear Mrs. Peterson's gardening shears snipping closer.
My heart races as I toss the rose in a playful arc toward Jake.
He catches it easily, his eyes never leaving mine.
I lean against Mrs. Peterson's garden wall, watching him examine the stolen rose while my pulse races beneath my teal bikini top.
The morning sun warms my exposed shoulders, and I can feel the sweat gathering at the base of my neck.
Mrs. Peterson's gardening sounds grow louder around the corner.
Jake's fingers trace the stem where a small drop of my blood stains the green.
He glances up at me, his eyes meeting mine with a hint of mischief.
"Looks like you got caught," he says, nodding toward the tiny cut on my palm.
I wipe the blood on my bikini bottom, leaving a tiny red mark on the fabric.
"Guess I'm busted," I reply, shrugging with feigned nonchalance.
Jake leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, Mrs. Peterson's roses aren't the only secret around here."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What else is hiding in this sleepy neighborhood?"
He grins, his eyes sparkling with secrets.
"Let's just say there are things you can't see from the garden."
I stand frozen as Mrs. Peterson's footsteps crunch on the garden path behind us.
Jake's eyes widen in silent warning, and he quickly stuffs the stolen rose into his back pocket.
The thorny stem catches on his jeans, making him wince.
Mrs. Peterson's shadow stretches across the ground between us as she rounds the corner of her house.
My bare feet dig into the grass, weighing my options.
Jake subtly nods toward the street.
When Mrs. Peterson gasps and shouts, "What are you two doing in my garden?"
my body reacts before my mind can catch up.
I lock eyes with Jake, then deliberately back into Mrs. Peterson's prized ceramic gnome collection.
The first gnome wobbles as my heel connects with its base.
Mrs. Peterson shrieks, lunging forward to save her decorations.
Three more gnomes topple like dominoes, crashing to the ground.
While she scrambles to catch the falling figures, Jake slips away through the hedge gap.
My bikini snags on a branch as I start to follow him, but I stay put, watching Mrs. Peterson cradle her gnomes.
She glares at me, face reddening, while pieces of broken ceramic crunch under her gardening shoes.
I turn and sprint down the street, leaving behind the shattered remnants of our morning escapade.
I sprint down the sidewalk, my bare feet slapping against the hot concrete.
Jake's footsteps thunder behind me.
Rounding the corner into the narrow alley between Thompson's Hardware and the old bookstore, I feel the rough brick scrape my shoulder.
My bikini offers little protection from the coarse wall.
Cardboard boxes and metal trash cans line our escape route.
Jake catches up, his breathing heavy, and grabs my wrist to slow me down.
The sound of Mrs. Peterson's angry shouts grows distant.
We pause, hearts pounding, as the alley swallows us whole.