I have been meaning to relink/republish some older posts that were deleted in the website reboot. I figure since I am too damn busy getting ready to get married in two weeks to actually write anything, now is the perfect time to repost some old shit that I have already written and pass it off as new…or not, since the jig is clearly up. Why can I not just keep my fat mouth shut? Anyhow, this was originally published on April, 6th 2015. I hope you enjoy it!
So it was a fairly normal Tuesday when I suddenly found myself childless and in my mother’s car on the way to the aquatic center to participate in something called River Run Boot camp. And that should have been the first red flag right there. As a chubby person whose laziness is depthless I should really know better than to willingly participate in anything labeled as a “boot camp” but I was so intoxicated by the idea of two whole childless hours that you probably could have gotten me to go along with anything at that point. You could be like, “Hey, Dacia! You wanna come with me to a Hitler youth rally and then have our toenails pulled out and our feet dipped in lemon juice?” and I’d be like, “I don’t…..” and then you’d be all, “Someone will watch Bo for a couple hours so we can go.” At which point I would already be sitting in the car waiting for you and only wondering a little bit how, exactly, our toenails will be removed.
And that is how I came to be in the women’s locker room at the Snohomish Aquatic Center (or SAC if you’re into brevity and funny acronyms) stripping down in front a six-year-old autistic girl who was hiding in the corner to be away from the noise of the cacophonous hand dryers and her mother. I learned a long time ago that there is no point in being bashful in these situations and that if anyone didn’t want to see something they could just look away so I took to removing my clothing with casual efficiency. Then the mother started up a conversation and to my surprise I was not put off at all by making small talk with a complete stranger while removing my panties. “Is it spring break?” she asked me. “I have no idea.” I said. At which point I realized that Easter is this weekend and it probably is spring break…somewhere. I added quickly that my “little one” has spring break next week at which point I noticed a look of abject horror cross the older woman’s face. “He’s just in preschool, though.” I added with a nervous chuckle. This did nothing to temper her appalled expression. At which point I realized that she was asking me about spring break because she assumed I was either in high school or possibly college. There was some additional banter and then she and her daughter were off. I sort of wanted to yell after her, “I’m not a teenage mother! I had him when I was 30!” but I was admittedly pretty flattered at being mistaken for a teenager….especially while topless.
I am white girl. I know this seems pretty obvious but I am not just white, I am like a 10th degree Caucasian and whenever I have occasion to wear a bathing suit in public this fact does not go unnoticed. Inevitably I will catch someone staring at me like they are not sure if I am real or just an apparition at which point they have to look around at all the other people to see if they notice me too. Most people give up staring at me once they realize they are not hallucinating. I was relaying this fact to my mother as we entered the Jacuzzi. She laughed and then pointed out another pale girl across the pool and said, “I dunno, she’s pretty white.” I agreed as we both studied the young lady and she continued, “It is a different kind of white though, she’s less….”
“Transparent.” I offered. “YES!” she agreed excitedly, as I had intuited the exact word for which she was searching, and added something about her whiteness being “creamier” and “more opaque”. Now pay attention kids, my terrifying pallor will be a topic of conversation again.
My mom and I get out of the Jacuzzi and into the river run area which is basically a slow moving current going around in a figure 8, or at least the current seems slow, until you try to go against it, then it seems kind of like trying to wade through Nutella while wearing a lead jumpsuit. Needless to say, about 4 minutes and 38 seconds into the actual boot camp, my doughy ass is sweating like a whore in church and this is really an odd sensation. One is very rarely, if ever, aware of their sweat while actually submerged in water. I see that every time I pass the instructor whilst going through the figure 8 she looks at me with what appears to be barely concealed alarm and I know this is because I probably look like a beefsteak tomato that someone has put in the microwave. Which brings us back to my whiteness. As a 10th degree Caucasian who is nearly transparent, when I am experiencing exertion I get red; my chest, my cheeks, my forehead all turn crimson, same thing happens when I cry…which is really why I should try to do that in public less. About the third time I pass the instructor and notice the same look of concern on her face I almost scream “I am totally not having a stroke! I am just Norwegian!” Instead I just try to smile and look like I am having fun, which I actually am, but I think my attempt at conveying “I am totally having a good time and you should not worry” appeared more like “I am a sociopath that has no idea how to properly express human emotions…and also I might be pooping right now”.
In a shocking turn of events, I managed to last the whole hour of boot camp without dropping dead, much to the visible relief of our instructor. And after a brief post-boot-camp soak in the Jacuzzi it was back to the locker room, where upon catching a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror on the way to the showers, I had to admit to that I really could not blame the instructor for thinking I was going to die because I was, really, really red. But none of this is the best part!!! The best part is that while showering and getting ready to leave I found a kickass pair of Jack Skellington hairpins abandoned in the shower soap dish!!! Score!!!
Totally fucking worth nearly getting mistakenly carted away from the pool on a stretcher!
And, yes, I am fully aware that I should have turned the hairpins into the lost and found at the front desk but I feel as though it is a pretty well established fact that I am an asshole…so I didn’t do that.
Goodbye for now my dearies!