My lil' bro Steve and I enjoy the beach circa 1988.
When I was a kid, there was no more prized activity than swimming.
My little brother and I used to beg to swim. In the summers, my parents would plan our nerdy educational vacations — they we both teachers — around which hotels had a pool we could swim in, and my brother and I were both enrolled in swimming lessons nearly year-round at the local school district’s pool. When our neighbors moved in and installed an above ground pool, I used to trade their daughter time in my air conditioned house for swim time.
It was just a few years ago that the pool was providing endless hours of entrainment, so on this Memorial Day as I lounged by the pool near my apartment — with no intention of getting in — I had to wonder what it was that killed every bit of youthful joy I used to get from the activity.
I don’t remember exactly when my hatred for swimming started — it was probably right around the time that puberty hit. From a pretty young age I was cursed with a curvy body, and suddenly it wasn’t quite so fun to have to trot around in a swimsuit during all those lessons.
My ever increasing blindness didn’t help either. As anyone who wears them knows, trying to keep contacts in your eyes while swimming is virtually impossible. Glasses are even worse. I once sunk a pair of hideous wireframe glasses to the bottom of a 12 foot pool at Disney World after I made the mistake of wearing them on a water slide. (Looking back at pictures of those glasses, I wish I would have left them there.)
There’s also the long hair factor. Chlorine ravages my locks, and trying to swim without getting your hair wet is a kill joy.
As an adult, simply sitting by the pool is a stressful endeavor. I ended up poolside this weekend only because a friend’s roommate took a lifeguarding job and let us in for free. The idea was to get a little bit of sun, but my twenties have sucked the last bit of enjoyment out of the pool. Now, I get to worry about fitting my ever-aging body into a swimsuit.
So, like many adults, I only go to the pool when I have to. I do my best to enjoy it — sucking in the unflattering spots and hoping no one is looking my way.
But I can’t help but stare longingly at the kids in front of me — flailing about, flinging themselves into the cold water with reckless abandon. Those kids aren’t worried about losing their glasses or accidentally flashing someone or getting judged by the other girls. They’re having the time of their lives, and I miss what it was like to feel that uninhibited. The summers were a lot more fun back then.