Sand, Sun(burn) and Fun(ky Lips)

Sitting cross-legged on a boardwalk bench in Cape May, NJ, tears welling up in my eyes, I thought my 14-year old life was ruined.

My lips - puffed, peeling and raw from the sun - were swollen to about three times their normal size. We were on summer vacation, and my father had allowed my younger brother and I on the beach for eight hours on a 96-degree August day with no SPF lip protection. They burned to the touch; as a teenage girl, the sight of myself in the motel mirror stung even worse.

We looked like sideshow freaks. I could practically hear the boardwalk barker calling out, "Folks, step right up to see Blimp-lipped Megan and Devin's Plump Pucker."

The lifeguards could have used our mouths as floatation devices in case of an emergency.

Thankfully our family getaway was winding down, because I barely left our room at the Periwinkle Inn that day.

The Rowlands' summer trip of '94 wasn't a complete flop however. I enjoyed the best peanut butter pancakes known to man at Uncle Bill's Pancakes House, got my first henna tattoo on the boardwalk and authored some of my greatest teenage angst on the sand dunes at dusk.

Those rubber lips were certainly painful (and ugly) at the time. Looking back I can't help but smile at the simple joys of family vacation --and how it isn't complete unless something goes wrong.