My experience has been called "descriptive" AND "hilarious"
How my first (and only) aquacize class left me grossed out and low-key traumatized.
I promised myself after I retired that I would try new things.
I’ll swim laps at the local public pool! I said.
I’ll join a workout class.
I’ll try aquacize because of how much everyone says it is.
Here’s how THAT went
I’m a semi-pro grouch guru with a master’s in avoidance and anxiety. But for some reason, I really felt like I had something to prove after I retired.
I thought I needed to make new friends. To be honest, I thought the experience would be good for me. You know? Confidence building and all that stuff.
That, however, was not my experience.
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1. Lap Swimming at The Local Pool
I hate those cold, awkward moments between showering off in the changing room and getting into the pool. It makes me shiver, and I really don’t handle discomfort of any kind.
But, you know, dems da rules.
So, I went into the ladies’ locker room, put on my new (albeit dirt cheap) full-piece bathing suit, mustered some courage, then showered off and walked (shivering) out to the poolside.
Where’s my lane??
All the lanes were taken. I didn’t realize there were only 6 open lanes and several people waiting for their turn.
Now what? Should I bolt or fake it till I make it?
I tried to look like a pro, confidently scanning the pool for an open lane. Then I thought maybe I could just sit by the kiddie pool until a lane opened up.
Pro Tip: Don’t get in the kiddie pool while the kids are having a swimming class!
Look, I wasn’t paying attention, okay? I was nervous, wanted to look like I knew what I was doing, and slid into the shallow end of the kiddie pool like a boss (or BAUZE as they say).
Like I belonged.
Parents looked up at me as I huddled against the pool wall.
The instructor blew her whistle and gave me a little side-eye. Not the “come hither” kind of side-eye. It was more like the properly alarmed side-eye that gave off a “callin’ the cops” vibe.
It took me a moment to realize what was happening.
This wasn’t just a public spot to dip your feet into. Actual children were being taught how to swim! For all intents and purposes, I had just crashed a kiddie party.
Cringey enough for you yet? It GETS WORSE
All eyes were on me now, but I was still determined to appear confident.
The narrative going through my mind went something like this:
I know what I’m doing here, in this small pool, with your unsuspecting children.
I’m just hiding out until a lane becomes available. No harm, no foul.
What are YOU looking at? Can’t a person make a mistake?
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Clearly, I’m not the person who belongs at the public pool.
At last, just as I was about to bolt back to the changing room, a lane became available. A very tall, narrow-waisted young man emerged from the pool with the grace of a beautiful sea creature.
He had that slight bob when he walked. You know? The kind of head bob and confident gait that says, “I was born in that hot tub and my placenta has been framed in the lobby.”
I approached the pool (the adult one this time)
While other people slid easily into the water, I took a minute to let my legs dangle. It’s a room-temperature indoor pool after all. I wouldn’t want my heart to stop with such a sudden temperature change.
I then slid my eye goggles over my eyes and clipped my nose shut with one of those clippy things so you don’t swallow too much water.
Turns out I can’t swim for sh*t
Finally, submerged in the water, I let my body slide away from the safety of the side.
Then I lifted my head really high above the water, curved my back unnaturally downward, and proceeded to ineffectively kank my feet (new word I made up because “kick” the water did not appear to be what I was doing).
I made it to the middle of the pool, where I promptly rolled over on my back for a nap.
Meanwhile, people on either side of me effortlessly cranked out laps doing that thing where your face goes in the water and then you turn your face, take a deep breath, plunge your face back down, and continue swimming that way.
I watched and learned
I tried to mimic what appeared to be the correct way to swim. These folks made it seem so easy.
It did not work for me. I coasted face-down, rolled to my side to take a breath, and ended up getting a long piece of my hair in my mouth.
I should have known. I was also the kid to get the bronze badge in gym class. IYKYK. I’m looking at you, genX!
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Since I can’t swim, why not try Aquacize?
Theoretically, Aquacize should be fun. But no one mentioned the potential of a full-blown face plant into the hairy back of a stranger.
I’ll tell you something else. Nothing is more humbling than realizing you have no clue how to tie a float belt around your waist. I didn’t even know they came in different sizes.
It wasn’t tight enough.
While the other people in the class floated comfortably across the deep water with their floaters neatly placed at their waist level, MY floater ended up jammed under my boobs, where I proceeded to develop a 5th-degree chafe burn from the friction of my flailing arms.
Mid-class Tsunami Watch
Did you know that if you have about 30 people in an Aquacise class, the movement of swimming in circles will create enough of a wake to lift you, over the waves, and straight into the back of the hairiest man you’ve ever seen?
My life flashed before my eyes.
I desperately reached out to grab the rope to avoid doing a full face-plant into this guy’s back. I kicked backward as hard as I could, trying to use my cupped palms as paddles to avoid the calamity.
Unfortunately, I’m no poker face
I watched in horror as that big square patch of back hair drew closer with each lapping wave.
I prayed for the first time in my life: “God if you can get me out of here without getting someone else’s hair in my mouth, I’ll be a better person.”
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Then it got worse!!
Please understand, that I don’t mean any disrespect for the elderly who gain amazing benefits from swim glasses and aquacise.
All I can say is that THIS (elderly) woman, for whatever reason, bent over in the most unceremonious way I’ve ever seen. Hey, I’m no prude. The human body is nothing to be ashamed of.
I will ask, however, that you wear a good enough quality swimsuit to avoid bagging in the crotch region. Too much bagging means too much of what I don’t want to see and should never have to.
I’ve seen things, man. I’ve seen things.
Please keep your prickly Brillo pad cheetah monkey in your swimsuit!!
Someone’s rando hair caught in my throat
As if nearly face-slamming into Mr. Hairy Back weren’t enough, I ended the class trying to hawk up a small hair that I must have partially swallowed during a class that should have been named, “We will gross you out until you die.”
My next quiet prayer was more a threat to the Almighty: “Listen, dude, I said I wanted to get out of here WITHOUT a stranger’s hair in my throat.”
I walked home that cold, wintery night, swiping the inside of my mouth with a curved finger.
I hacked. I coughed. I tried to fake gargle my own spit to dislodge this thing from my throat.
Finally, I got home. It was nice to be back inside the warmth of my apartment.
How’d it go? My husband asked cheerfully.
I didn’t - nay, COULDN’T - respond. Instead, I went to the cabinet and poured myself a stiff brandy. Then I sat down, staring straight ahead, and took a sip.
Then another.
And another.
Wait! There it is! The hair in my throat! The brandy had dislodged it from my horrified tonsils.
It was short and red.
My hair is black and grey.
**S H U D D E R**
The moral of this story is that God doesn’t answer silly prayers during Aquacise, and because of that, I’m not going to try to be a better person.
So there. Take THAT, oh heavenly God Almighty.
Let’s talk!
Tell me about any new hobby horror stories that made you realize the activity wasn’t going to be a good fit for you.
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