Whenever I get in water higher than my underarms, I panic. I'm not talking that cute swooning panic that makes people want to rescue you and whisk you off on a white horse...but the kind of panic that has snot running outcha nose and almost drowns the person helping you cause I'm flopping around hollering and ish. After almost drowning Robby and myself in 5 ft of water last summer (yes...I'm still 5'9"...and shut up!)...I decided this year I was going to conquer the water.
Wait, you ask, isn't white water rafting a hobby of yours Monica? Why yes it is. Don't ask me why. I can get in a potentially dangerous situation in water but nope...can't take a calm, peaceful swim. I remember years ago on my first whitewater rafting trip. I'd decided that I was going to jump in the water with rapids flailing all around me. The only person that knew of my fear was my best friend. We held hands and jumped off a rock into the rapids. The whole time he's coaching me so I can float. Robby is flitting around like a damn seal and hears the convo between Cojoe and I. Thunder clouds erupt on his face as he realizes I can't swim a lick. He grabs me around the waist and gets me to the river bank and proceeds to go off on me "WHY IN THE HELL ARE WE WHITE WATER RAFTING IF YOUR AZZ CAN'T SWIM? ARE YOU SUICIDAL? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU....AND YOU....WHY WOULD YOU LET HER JUMP IN THE FUGGIN RAPIDS?????"
Anyway...back to me swimming. Yesterday I went for my first lesson with a very capable young man by the name of Solomon. I showed up with new swim suit, state of the art goggles, silicon super dooper special swim cap, Teva sandals, beach towel, toiletries, washcloth, change of clothing all in my really cool bag with my last name embroidered on it. Speaking with my Grandmother on the way from my truck to the door of the swim center, I shared with her where I was to which she stated..."Girl...you know you almost drowned when you were a kid...why you going mess around with water again? Is Robby with you? Put him on the phone! Tell him he bet not let my baby drown way out there! Lawd...I can't get on a plane with my bad leg....etc...etc." Gee...thanks Granny. WHERE'S THE FUGGIN UNCONDITIONAL SUPPORT AND CONFIDENCE??????? (Note to self...send her a picture of me smiling for Christmas instead of a church suit.) HA!
ANYWAY...Solomon is fully dressed in nice jeans, nice shoes, nice shirt. Solomon does NOT look like he's going to save me in the event of an emergency. Therefore Solomon does not have my vote of confidence. Solomon, however, is very astute in that he realizes immediately off the bat that I'm going to be his "special" student. After 20 minutes of my 50 minute session...he finally convinces me to stick my head under water all the while saying "STAY IN THIS CORNER RIGHT HERE...DO NOT MOVE...I REPEAT...DO NOT MOVE FROM THIS CORNER!
Keep in mind that I have on the best goggles money can buy and a super dooper silicon swim cap. It looks pretty cool down there while I'm just lying there trying to convince my butt to float to the top of the water. Two year olds are stroking beside me like dolphins pointing and giggling at my grown behind holding on for dear life to the edge while I figure out this head-under-water-crap. They are floating on their backs and stroking like Michael Phelps, lil punks (Note to self: re-think kids.)
After flailing for about 10 minutes, I get the hang of the floating crap and before you know it...the class is over. I get out of the water, put on my water sandals and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. HOT DAMN MESS! I LOOK LIKE DAFFY DUCK WHEN SOMEONE SLAPS HIS BILL OFF. HOT DAMN MESS! EYES ALL RED, SNOT RUNNING OUT MY NOSE. ARRRRRRRRGH!
I slop over to the women's dressing room where there are naked old women (let me just say that I hope they are doing body transplants by the time I'm that age) and every single surface is wet. I rinse off the water and change leaving my super dooper silicon helmet on until the last minute so my hair doesn't get wet. I take it off and yup...MY DAMN HAIR IS SOAKED THROUGH. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My bag gets wet, I drop my damn nice beach towel on the disgusting floor so I have to take my but in the sauna to dry off "au natural"...it was just too damn much!
Now I gotta go home, wash my hair, dry it, curl it and wrap it so I look decent the next damn day. Robby was on his way home from a trip expecting to see his beautiful professionally coiffed wife who goes to the hair salon once a week and finds me, passed out, with the dogs asleep on top of me sporting my Bozo the Clown look. My skin is ashy as hell even though I regularly use this expensive azz cream (not lotion...OH NO...NEVER LOTION...IT'S CREEEEEEEEAAAAAMMMMMMM!(fuggin Oprah and her fuggin "O" List)). AND I GOTTA GO DO THIS AGAIN TOMORROW! I PAID FOR THIS DAMN TREATMENT! WHAT THE HELL WAS I SMOKING? TWICE A WEEK FOR 2 DAMN MONTHS? Shit, shit, shit!
I should have signed up for a knitting class. I just didn't like the title. Stitch and Bitch. *sigh* Stitch and Bitch.
Anyway...if any of you ever, EVER, ask again why black women don't like to swim...I hope I have answered your dumb ass question. Swimming...HA! It's for the fish. I much prefer looking cute on side of the pool in a chaise with a nice book and some Jackie O sunglasses. SO THERE!