It was a Wednesday in mid-July and the weather was a brutal
90 degrees with humidity that made the Weather Channel’s “Feels Like” temperature
show 5,000 degrees.
Around noon, Francesca texted me, “That’s it. We need to go water-walking tonight.”
It would be our first time joining the blue-hairs for
water-walking at the public pool. They
say your late 20’s is the time to plan for your future – we were just looking
35 years ahead.
After work, I forged the river that was the atmosphere en route
to my car. I rushed home, visions of
beautiful, blue, chlorine-filled coolness dancing in my mind. After I put on my swimsuit, I readied my
pool-going accessories and ran out of my apartment building. I jumped back into the car and drove to pick
up Francesca. We arrived at the public
swimming pool, found a parking spot, organized our towels and sunblock, and
began the walk to the pool entrance.
That’s when an unexpected wave of panic hit me.
“Whoa.” I said to Francesca
as I stopped walking. “I’m dealing with
some issues right now.” I felt my
stomach contract and my chest tighten. Francesca,
who had been complaining about the heat all day, looked at me in a tone that
made it clear ten-years of friendship was nothing compared to her need to be
immersed in cool, chemically treated water.
“I’m sorry.” I said, swallowing the dense oxygen and trying to
regain control of my body’s senses. “It’s
been over fifteen years since I’ve been here and there’s a lot of emotional
shit I have to deal with, apparently.”
When I was a kid, the pool was awesome. I loved swimming. I felt like I could do anything as long as I
was in the swimming pool. I could swim
faster, hold my breath longer, and swim deeper than anyone else. The pool was my arena. The other kids had
soccer and basketball and football – the pool was mine.
But outside of the water - amongst the rows of sun-bathing teenagers
with their judgmental scowls, around the boys I had crushes on who refused to
acknowledge my existence, and in the locker rooms where my elementary school nemeses
lurked – those places were my hell at the public pool. How I longed for the weekend camping trips my
parents would make to Devil’s Lake where I could finally feel safe at a
swimming area without fearing the repercussions of being slightly chubbier than
my peers.
All of those little hurts from so long ago that I hadn’t
even thought about for fifteen years came rushing back to me as we walked to the
pool’s entrance. To make
matters worse I didn’t have my swimming shorts with me. I was going to have to drop my towel and walk
to the edge of the pool, bare, cellulite-ridden thighs and all.
“This is ridiculous! I’m an adult now!” I practically
shouted it as Francesca glowered at me, sweat beading on her brow. I took a few deep breaths and tried to
channel as much positivity as I could muster as we arrived at the entrance. “I can do this.”
I kept my eyes directed at the ground the entire time I
walked through the locker room, fearing the ghosts of past tormenters that
might jump out at me. We picked a place
to set our things and Francesca easily dropped her towel and stood confidently
as she waited for me to quit dawdling.
Finally, I took one last deep breath and dropped my
towel. We quickly walked to the pool’s
edge and slipped into the water.
And oh the relief!
The panic washed away as soon as I got into the pool, just
as it always did when I was a kid.
Francesca, finally being cooled, also lightened up as soon
as we got into the heavenly water. I’m
pretty sure we stood there giggling for five minutes before we actually started
walking.
Natalia and Prudence joined us after a few minutes and we all
walked. Then we discovered that perhaps
we’re just a bit too young to do something like water-walking. We still enjoy splashing and playing a bit
too much for the Adult Swim, but perhaps we can fake it well enough on those
hot summer days that we’ll be able to go back.
As the time for water-walking came to an end my mood had
lightened to the point of giddiness at being with my girlfriends. The water had washed away enough of the
ghosts of my childhood pain that I jumped out of the pool and thought:
Fuck it. Let those bitches see my thighs.
I think it’s safe to say that childhood Annie won a little victory
that day. That one's for you, kid.
Hugsnkisses,
Annie Jay