Thursday, June 25, 2009

Baby Got Buoy

Early this morning I headed out to San Antonio for a deposition that I had to attend. I passed a Buc-ees on my way out there but, as I was running late for the depo, I could not stop for Beaver Nuggets. I put my hand and forehead on my driver's-side window and looked longingly in their direction as I passed but, alas, I had to drive on.

The deposition was a pretty short one - we were in and out in about 2 hours. Normally after a deposition, I head back to work. But not today. Today, I continued West to Hunt, Texas, where I met my friends Diana, Joley, Jerry, Phil, Olivia, and Taylor for some quality time in the Hill Country. A nice, relaxing weekend . . .

And then I had to put my bathing suit on.

I had spent the drive out here giving myself a pep talk, knowing I'd be strutting around in all my bathing-suit glory in T - 4.5 hours. I had been telling myself things like: "Pale is the new tan." and "Big thighs might help me swim faster." and "Maybe I'll get into a bloody car wreck before I get there." But, eventually, I arrived in one piece . . . with my one-piece mocking me from my suitcase. I thought "Maybe they're swimmed-out and will want to sit around in jeans and sweatshirts instead." But the second I got in the house, Olivia and Taylor (8 and 4) wanted to go swimming.

With me.

So I put my swimsuit on and put some yoga pants on over it in an effort to put off the big reveal until the last possible moment. Thankfully, Diana and Joley were both wearing shorts into the pool so, not wanting to deviate from the apparent trend, I decided to just wear my yoga pants in, too. Of course, I didn't think through what water-soaked yoga pants suctioned to my thighs would look like when I got out, but it provided temporary relief from my bathing suit phobia. Aaaaaaaaaaand helped those around me to not DEVELOP a phobia of my suit.

We played Marco Polo for a while and I remembered how much I used to hate that game. I mean, it's fun when you're one of the "polo" people but it really sucks when you're Marco. And that's just what I need to add to my bathing suit insecurity: make me bounce around the pool with my eyes closed, arms flailing, and yelling "Marco!" You just can't help but feel cool.

Then we started throwing a little ball around to each other and that turned into a game of don't-let-it-touch-the-water-or-you-lose. We decided that if anyone let the ball touch the water, that person had to get out of the pool, climb up the slide, and slide down into the pool.

Let me tell you a little bit about this slide. It's a tall, narrow, plastic slide that looks like it will barely fit my butt. I briefly had visions of getting lodged in it somewhere mid-slide and having to have my friends cut me out. If armpits can sweat in a pool, mine did.

There was no way I was going to drop that ball.

So we started throwing the ball around and, one by one, everyone dropped it and had to go down the slide. Except me. I was diving for the ball, swallowing water, taking gallons of water up the nose - whatever I had to do to catch that stupid ball. Then they ganged up on me. Phil threw the ball high into the air and it was coming down right at me. I looked up, centered myself beneath it, and was preparing my trash-talk of "You have to work a lot harder than that to trip Catherine Palmore up" when the ball slipped right through my hands and smacked into the water.

Things began to move in slow motion . . . NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

So I got out of the pool, my yoga pants soaked and clinging to my thighs for dear life. I felt particularly attractive. I made the climb up to the top of the slide (which is really quite awkward after the age of 10), sat down at the top, quickly said a prayer for minimal friction, and pushed off. It was actually kind of fun. And I wasn't even embarrassed that I had to hold my nose as I came flying into the water. I mean, really - that was the least of my concerns at that point.

Then we changed the rules and decided that anyone who let the ball hit the water had to do a cannonball. I wish I could tell you that I didn't have to get up and do one but I did. You know, as a girl, you really can't win with a cannonball because you want to be cool so you don't want it to be a wimpy one. But, on the other hand, you don't want everyone to be blown away by the big tidal wave you and your big butt create when you jump in. It's really a fine line to walk. I'm not sure where my cannonball fell on that line. I'm not really sure I WANT to know . . .

After we were all through with our games, Joley asked if I sink or float in the pool. As my affinity for Swiss Cake Rolls and Mexican food has made me quite buoyant, I was surprised by the question. I figured it would be obvious. I thought to myself "Maybe these yoga pants really DID conceal my fat! God bless Old Navy!" and calmly answered that I THOUGHT I would float. We laid on our backs and all floated peacefully. Suddenly, I became aware of something that horrified me: my body was turning on its own so that my butt was floating upward. My butt was ACTUALLY rising to the top. Like a big, yoga-pant wearing buoy.

How embarrassing.

Thankfully, it was time to get out of the pool and head to dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. You would think that my experience in the pool today would have curbed my appetite but it didn't. I ate all the chips and tortillas I wanted and decided that was a perfectly smart and healthy thing to do.

Because, let's face it . . . my butt's gonna save me from drowning some day.


Erin said...

OMG..I can't take it. That was HILARIOUS. I loved so many things, but the mocking bathing suit made me LOL! Oh God, and so did the tidal wave part. So many other ones did too! This one will go down with the Wii one for me!

Unknown said...

I know exactly what you're talking about. I took a swimming class in college, and my swim coach kept telling me to make an effort to keep my butt BELOW the surface of the water because it kept popping up. And she kept saying helpful things like, "I've just never seen anything like this before." (She might have weighed 110 pounds.) So I just determined that my butt is its very own flotation device, and if I ever survive a plane crash into water, I just need to not panic, because my butt will find its way to the surface eventually.

Phyllis Eddings said...

When I was younger, (and much thinner)I swam underwater all the time, and loved the free feeling. As I got older, I swam underwater less and less because of contacts. So a couple of years ago I got a great pair of goggles so that I could finally get that underwater freedom again. Much to my chagrin it was very difficult to get very far below the water....and Catherine, you know why.

And, I always wear shorts over my swimsuit. I buy them especially for their thigh-covering abilities, as well as their protection from thigh-rub-burn. Or worse, thighs that adhere to each other when you're walking from the pool to the lawn chair. Yeah, hate that!

Phyllis Eddings said...

On the bright side, being buoyant could save our lives one day, if we ever find ourselves overboard.:-)

Unknown said...

I'm never worried about a plane crash and my butt helping to float me to the nearest island. I have my padded bra just for that purpose! Depending upon which one I am wearing, I could possibly be responsible for saving another person - or two. Just think of the human interest story in the newspaper the next day. "One survivor was able to float half of coach to safety on just one Wonder Bra!"

Tracy said...

Jill and I stopped at Buc-ee's on Tuesday, and I tried the nuggets for the first thought is that they taste like deep fried french toast. So yummy!

Joley said...

What our precious Catherine forgot to mention in her blog is that she is one "those" people who avoids being Marco by being what we like to call, the whisperer. When it's time for her to say Polo, she suddenly gets all breathy at the onset of the game and begins her best imitation of Marilyn Monroe singing, "Happy Birthay Mr. President...." HHhhmmm. Now wonder she only had to be it once.