The principle of utilitarinism.

The principle of utilitarianism.

Okay, I was a tan-aholic.

I've been hearing "you know, my first impression was that you were a bimbo" one too many times, and many have attributed it to my tan. Tanned skin somehow brings to mind a party girl with fluff for brains. I can't dispute that I have my moments of ditziness, but I am definitely not a clubaholic whose main motivation in life is the next free-entry Wednesday night. As appalling as it may sound, my life revolves very much around things that don't involve tanning or partying.

But there used to be a time, back when I was 15, that I would steal away with Xiaowen to Siloso Beach after classes. There, we'd strip down to our sports bras and fbt shorts, lay our uniforms out on the sand and bake the afternoon away. Ditto for Saturdays at the beach with Lanxi. Those were the times when hitting the beach was just about getting and maintaining a tan, at the expense of weird tan lines. (Bikinis weren't quite the rage yet.)

A classic example of the principle of utilitarianism I thought, of ends justifying the means.

I can't remember when that twisted mindset of mine started evolving, but I'm glad it did.

I started swimming on a regular basis when I turned 19, and now that a tan's no longer something I have to consciously pursue, it becomes inconsequential.

Hitting the beach is now a physical act of escape from life. Sitting alone, watching and listening to the fascinating, but never boring, repetition of waves lapping against the shore, does wonders for my soul. Loneliness can hit you even when you're surrounded by throngs of friends, or when you're literarily alone, but it never hits me when I'm at the beach.

The process of being in the waters or stripped down and back at one with nature (even though my favourite local stretch is man-made), surpasses the end result - a tan. In fact, it is no longer something I covet, and is more an unnecessary result of a lifestyle I enjoy.

Teology has now morphed to deontology.

That was how I felt yesterday. Laying at the edge of the pool in a state of semi-consciousness while my hand traced lazy circles in the water, and luxuriating in the intoxicating effect of moseying through the waters. Getting a tan was the last thing on my mind, but this is what 80 minutes in the noon-time sun, and forgetting my sunblock, cost me.

First impressions are evil, but I'm glad I got to change them for some of you.