The "Live With Kelly and Ryan" co-host took to Instagram on Thursday to share a behind-the-scenes peek at what she and Seacrest get up to backstage at their show - and it's quite something. SEE ALSO: Celebrities go nude on Instagram: Kourtney Kardashian, Erika Jayne and more stars that have stripped down in In the Instagram post, Ripa and Seacrest are seen in a dad bod bathing suit and bikini t-shirt , respectively. Ripa's bathing suit recently went viral after its maker, Beloved, revealed it on Instagram, so clearly the TV personality had to see what all the fuss was about and try it out herself. View this post on Instagram.
Though the pair experienced phenomenal ratings and buzz throughout the former "American Idol" host's first week at the show, his second week brought a dramatic 12 percent decrease in ratings.
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Happening Now. com Editors. Tags dad bod kella ripa live with kelly and ryan ryan seacrest. More From AOL. com: Watch live: White House gives ates on COVID protocol, stimulus cks Israeli experts announce discovery of new Dead Sea scrolls Watch live: Boulder police give ate on supermarket mass shooting.
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And the child-me yearned for tradition, as when, on family vacations to the Outer Banks, my mother and I had seard for sea treasures. Knobby whelks, scotch bonnets, Queen Helmet conchs - the shells, once hard exoskeletons for soft-bodied sea creatures, were chinked with tide-tumbled battle scars.
Sneaky sister films mom and daughter in the shower! In the Instagram post, Ripa and Seacrest are seen in a dad bod bathing suit and bikini t-shirt, respectively. Ripa's bathing suit recently went viral after its maker, Beloved, revealed it on Our Maui travel plans hadn't included a nude beach. The bohemian escapade happened by accident, when, after a stroll down Big Beach and nary a shell for my mother to collect, she asked which
Now we were all adults, I thought to myself. What could go wrong?
Taking Wife To A NUDE BEACH To See How She Reacts!
My mother would collect shells for her expanding pile in the hallway bathroom back in North Carolina - spiny urchins, weathered sea glass, fishing nets with skate eggs and sand dollars, displayed like shiny brass trophies. On visits home I had pressured her to cull her collection.
My toothbrush barely fit on the bathroom counter. The next morning, we returned to Makena State Park, hiked over a jagged lava outcrop, then down through thorny kiawe trees to Little Beach - a pristine stretch of sand at the base of a cinder cone.
The shore break was gentle; the water, a bright shade of turquoise; the briny air, warm. Bare-bottomed sunbathers crowded the umbrella-dotted beach, a spectrum of gays to straights with an ambiguous mix in the middle.
While I was shirtless, in boardshorts and a Speedo underneath, my parents stood out like neon warning signs in shorts, knee-high socks and tennis shoes, their matching polos buttoned-up. Sunscreen had been applied with a trowel.
Straw hats had been anchored around chins. The gawking haolesas native Hawaiians called visitors, have arrived! My father and I stepped onto the hot sand.
But my mother hesitated, dazed and unsure. I held out my hand. Come experience this together.
We seard for an open spot, maneuvering around a gray-haired woman with a goat, past a clique of sun-kissed college girls, and away from a rowdy pack of locals, one of whom I called Tarzan - a Little Beach legend with stringy blead hair and skin like an old leathered satl.
We staked a claim in front with the beach walkers, body surfers and a doughy man with a Hula-Hoop, his appendage swinging in sync with each hip gyration. Next to us lay a three-generation Bostonian family so at ease with nudity it made me jealous.
Mom dad nude beach
And nauseated, visualizing being naked, haunch-to-haunch, with my parents. I stripped to my Speedo.
My parents removed their shoes and socks. Silent, I watd them sneak peeks of fresh novelties - tattoos and piercings, rolls and folds. My father was inscrutable; my mother, fidgety and itching to beach comb.
I escorted her along the shoreline to the lava pools at the north end, warning her not to venture into the trees. My face burned.
I flicked sand over the condom, said nothing. An hour later, she returned to the towels, a stash of shells cradled in her shirt.
Each one she laid before us with contagious enthusiasm. Look at that rainbow of stripes and spirals.
eMom is at it again but this time she's naked. This mom has no shame. You can be sure that her son is banging his head agaist his computer screen as his mo
See that glimmer of iridescence. All I saw were chips and rough edges, none of her treasures perfect.
To her, each one was a keeper. As the day progressed, the bucking in my st subsided.
Until Tarzan strutted in our direction, his large endowment at half-mast. My mother glanced up from her book as his fluffed genitals passed at eye level, less than two feet away.