Cleavage, cliff jumping, and learning to say "YES!"

I am an indoor girl. I enjoy wine, theatre, and interesting discussions. I’ve never been the type to splash through mud or jump from high things. Until I went to Kauai and had the time of my life.

The swimsuits I packed were a tried & true bikini and a brand new one-piece from Nettle’s Tale. The plan for my first day in Hawaii: Hopi Falls. My friend’s Hawaiian hubby scoffed at my heeled sandals and loaned me a pair of amphibious shoe-leggings that made me look like a Ninja turtle. Nice throwback to my ‘80s childhood. Not too girly though. I begged them not to include my feet in any pictures, and made peace with the situation.

And then...I decided not to put on makeup. You must understand, that is like hell freezing over. The equivalent of Einstein deciding to flat-iron his hair. But my friends insisted I’d be happily cliff-jumping by noon, and even though I balked at the very idea...it just didn’t feel like a mascara sort of day. I wore my one-piece and shorts, and followed them into the jungle.

The first cliff we found would not be considered high by any true thrill-seeker. But to me, it was terrifying. Still, I couldn’t walk away. I watched other people take the plunge, having the time of their lives, and wondered, “Why do I say no to so many things in life?” 

So this time, I said yes. Trembling with terror, but also a thrilling sense of freedom. For the first time in more than 15 years, I abandoned my obsession with keeping my head above water and I actually plunged in.

Witness the biggest leap I’ve ever taken:

 I won’t get all cheesy and say it was swimwear that changed me that day, but the Deirdre was pretty great for such an occasion: hiking, rope-swinging, banana-hunting (seriously, that’s what they called it) and getting pounded by a massive waterfall. While scrambling up rocks, I may have broken a few nails but I never felt like I was (ahem) falling out. Let’s just say that if I ever jump off a cliff again, it’s not going to be in a bikini.