Yesterday, I went to the Y to swim laps. Before I left the house, I packed a bag with all I'd need to swim, shower, do a little something with my hair and throw on a touch of makeup. I jumped in my truck and five minutes later I was parked and heading for the pool.
I picked out a locker and undressed down to my underwear. I started to pull stuff out of my bag, when it dawned on me that I'd forgotten one thing. I had my swim goggles, swim cap, lap counter, and shower sandals. I had shampoo, body wash, facial cleanser and washcloth. (The Y provides towels). I had my curling iron and makeup bag. Do you know what I forgot? Hint: It's critical in most social situations involving swimming activities. I nearly beat my head against my locker when I realized I was lacking a swimsuit.
Actually, I wasn't all that surprised. I'd just mentioned to Lon at breakfast, that I often can't see the forest for the trees. Although upset with myself, I maintained my composure and began reaching for my clothes to get dressed. I glanced down and realized I wasn't up a creek without a paddle after all. For comfort purposes, I'd donned a black sports bra (those underwire bras are killers) when I dressed that morning and my briefs were a black, brown and tan leopard print. Hmm, I thought. Maybe, just maybe, I can get away with wearing them. Who will know? The walk from the locker room door to the pool is only six to eight feet. I took a peek in a mirror and decided to go for it.
I put my swim cap and goggles on, slipped my lap counter on my right index finger and headed for the pool. The first door had a sign ~ Please don't wear sports bras, underwear, shorts, or cut-offs in the pool, swimsuits only~ Oh ----! I started talking to myself. This looks like a 2-piece swimsuit, sort of. What about that old sign ~ Shower before entering the pool~ I'd been breaking that rule for years! Why should I conform to this new one?
At the final door to the pool, I faced another sign, just like the other one. I scoffed at it and pulled the door open, mumbling to myself: give me a break, I'm getting old, I forget things. I made a mad dash for the edge of the pool and slipped into the water in less than four seconds. Phew! So far, so good. I looked at the lifeguard and she looked at me. She didn't blow her whistle or accost me in any way. Phew! I relaxed and smiled on the inside; I'd pulled it off. I set to task, swimming from one end of the pool to the other, back and forth, back and forth, clicking my lap counter at each turn.
I stopped when my lap counter reached 36. I caught my breath and looked toward the lifeguard. She wasn't looking my way. Quicker than scat, I scooted out of the pool and back into the locker room. Mission accomplished. As I showered, my thoughts wandered: I'm so crafty, devious and smart...there's a bank next door...with my goggles and swim cap on...and my curling iron as a weapon...maybe I...
That's when I heard a door slam shut and heavy footsteps coming my way. I bowed my head and prayed for mercy. As the footfalls drew near, I finally had the nerve to look up. An over weight female staff member placed a pile of towels on the counter, turned around and walked away.
I reckon my conscience is telling me to mend my wicked ways, or at least, obey the signs at the Y.