Aselin

I’ve been spending some time at our local YMCA lately. It attracts an interesting cross section of humanity, sort of like the mall in workout clothes.

Sitting huddled against a block wall for shade from the setting western sun I’m watching a myriad of characters at the pool. A dad brings his two daughters for an afternoon swim. They’re a cute little family, but I can tell they don’t swim much. The older daughter lectures her younger sister on not touching her stuff as they remove their t-shirts and shorts. I immediately feel gratitude that I’m the older of the siblings in my family. The poor younger daughter is wearing a salmon colored hand-me-down swim suit six sizes too large. The straps are tied in knots to hold the thing up and the crotch hangs below her knees and you can see parts no one wants to see. I avert my eyes as the dad coats them in twelve gallons of sunscreen.

Turning to my left a woman preparing for a water aerobics class asks if she can sit next to me. We begin to chat and she explains she needs to rest a bit before she gets in the pool because her knees are bad, her shoulder is bad, the hearing in her left ear is bad...listening to the inventory of all of her maladies, I feel bad. Across the pool the aerobics instructor gathers the class. My buddy rises and gingerly enters the water. There are four lanes of swim team between her and the class. I’m curious how this is going to go down.

With an agility I did not expect she rolls her body over the first lane line and engages in a game of aquatic frogger. Hops to the left, jumps forward, step backward - after a few minutes she successfully evades the entire young swim team and joins her class. Triumphant, she waves at me before she starts boogieing. I clap for her over my head and yell “You Go Girl!” The younger of the siblings turns to see what I’m hollering at, which stops her descent into the pool. I’m just praying she’ll get in fast.

I’ve done my share of the skinny dip. In the water, you’re safe from the scrutiny of land. (See previous post “Wholly Inappropriate - Feb) She’s standing on the step looking at me to which I shoo her into the water. She grins and jumps in. Whew... I hope I’m gone when it’s time for her to get out.

Thinking all the good people-watching is done for the day I open up my book. Before I can even read a word I notice a cute elderly couple enjoying the water together. They both have t-shirts on which is prudent in the Arizona sunshine. They’re darling together and playfully splash each other in a sweet sunset exchange. Passing the younger sibling, they’re making their way to the steps to get out. Like some sort of bizarre synchronized swimming routine, they link arms and ascend the steps.

Of course, this is not going to be normal. Yes, they have on t-shirts. He’s also got on a large crucifix necklace, cotton bermuda shorts, his belt, and socks. Linked to the well dressed swimmer is his sweetheart in her t-shirt and white nylon shorts. ‘Wet’ and ‘white’ do not go well together - especially when you’re 80. I’m concerned about the wet-shorts contest and hoping as they make their way to the locker room they go faster than I’m expecting. As they pass by I smile and look down at the book, only to glance up and notice that the little lady has no concerns about the soaking wet nylon white short’s she’s sporting. Her vibrant aqua thong is providing all the coverage she needs.

I’m clearly overdressed for this crowd.