Style & Sustenance

Sorry for the cryptic title, but I truly love that line from that book. I made it roughly three quarters of the way through and I just couldn’t read it anymore. I saw clowns everywhere and they were not funny or cute or smiley. They were scary and freaky. However terrifying that reference is, it doesn’t stop it from popping up in my head every stinking time I step foot into the pool. The book has nothing to do with pools. But, that’s the way my mind works. Creepy experience + creepy line from book= Makea’s brain space.  #thisiswhyimsingle

I think the main reason why this reference sneaks its way to the forefront of my mind is because it serves as a reminder to me when I step into the pool. When in doubt, float. I have no qualms admitting that I am a 29 year old woman who has only known how to swim for the past two years. When I was 27 I finally drew up the nerve to register for Swimming Level I at my local community college. For the next three months I swam twice a week across the width of pool. Steadily learning new strokes and allegedly learning proper breathing techniques. We practiced diving, jumping in and retrieving items from the bottom of the pool. I perfected summersaults and flip turns. Things were looking good. Modern day Ester Williams over here! But when I decided to go for Swimming Level II, things took a turn downhill. My desire to perfect my stroke drastically diminished with the changing season. A whole year had passed since I completed level one and I just didn’t care anymore. It didn’t help that I was taking Swimming Level II in the fall. I was being forced to don a bathing suit and swim cap when I would normally insulate myself with corduroys, cable knit sweaters and leather boots.  I began to tell myself that it was okay if I skipped Monday night’s class because it was too cold to walk back from the gym to my car. It’s totally cool that I stay right here on the couch instead of going to Wednesday night’s class. Law and Order is coming on in an hour. It’s part two from last week’s cliffhanger. I can’t miss this episode. I kept along this way until I only had two weeks left and I just stopped going altogether. I had the basics down. Who was I kidding? I was never going to transform into Michael Phelps (I thought about using Ryan Lochte, but even Ryan Lochte wants swim like Michael Phelps).

This summer as I wade into the shallow end of the pool at my friend’s-parents-grandmother’s-neighbor’s house, I hold my head high. I have on my new red J.Crew bikini after all. And as I tie my silk scarf on my head and I bask in the sun, I drink my Tom Collins (thanks MomMom!) and feel at peace. There is no need to prove myself by knocking out laps up and down the pool. I’m a lounger and I was meant to lounge. And I make lounging look good.