I am Mermaid. Here me Glug.

I am BACK.  Sorry for my absence, *but truth be told I was interning at a scorpion rehabilitation center during the months of August-June, so my blog entries have been few and far between.  Note to self: There is nothing snuggly about a scorpion.  They are bite-y.  And stingy.  But I digress... What I'm trying to say is, I'm back now on a more regular consistency.  (*I am lying.)
Now, you might have looked at today's title entry, and are wondering to yourself, "she's a mermaid, too?" Basically, yes.  I have always loved the water.  When I was a kid I would lay in the bathtub and have my hair fan out and I would swish it to-and-fro, pretending that I was a magnificent mermaid.  I wouldn't leave the tub until my body resembled a large prune, and the water became a tepid fifty degrees.  When I got a little older, my family finally got a pool, and I practically lived in it from June-August.  I would splash around gleefully, resembling that of an orca, arcing gracefully out of the water, and then thundering down with a loud (and wave churning) *splash*.  But when you're a kid, you really don't care how you look in your swim gear, and you're just there for the fun of it.  I would rock out a neon colored one-piece suit like it was my job, and my main concern was that I had the less pinch-y type of nose plugs, and if my BFF would be able to bring her blow-up whale over, so we could go on an epic sea adventure in my ten-footer.  But as I got older, and the blow-up whale had more than one blow-hole (due to one "sea adventure" that involved jumping on the inflatable whale like it was a clydesdale, only having it sink to the bottom of the pool like a boulder), and suddenly it dawned on me that one should not draw attention to themselves by basically wearing neon colored underpants in the daytime.  So, my pastime of swimming like there was no tomorrow were long gone.  Until today.  You see, now that my summers are free, I decided to get a swim pass at a local rec center, so I could swim myself back into shape.  Let me paint you a picture of today's first time back in the pool, in I don't know how long...
I set my alarm for 5 AM, and I actually rolled myself out of bed, stuffed myself into my black life-sucking bathing suit (all the while wishing that it would be acceptable to wear a turtleneck and yoga pants in the pool),  and trying to shove my armpit fat down into this torture device known as "swim gear", hoping that I could pass it off more as boobage, instead of having armpit rolls that resemble vaginas.  Sorry if that's a little much, but let's be honest.  That's what it looks like.  After adjusting my bathing suit so my armpit wings wouldn't get in my way, I was in my car and headed to re-live my youth as a magnificent, magnificent mermaid.  I pulled into a parking space, and literally had to brace myself before walking in.  There actually were quite a few cars in the lot, which induced panic.  The thought of swimming like a torpedo in front of an audience made me hyperventilate. But, because I am brave, I went in anyways.
After trying to figure out how to open up the frigging locker for ten minutes-I'm not even kidding.  I probably looked like a newborn primate trying to figure out how doorknobs work-I finally was ready to get my swim on.  With a deep breath, and my towel wrapped tightly around my waist, I headed for the pool.  Luckily there was only one other dude in there who looked like he was a current subscriber to AARP, so I dropped my towel with a little more confidence.  I mean, he might've been wearing goggles, so he could've had a clear vision of me thrashing around like a bass out of water, but the man was utilizing a kick-board, and seemed to be in his own little world.  I slid into the water and thought that I would start off strong by doing the breast stroke.  Oh. My. God.  Who knew you could actually sweat while you were in water.  I was half-way down the lane and I literally thought to myself, "Self, if you were ever stranded out at sea, and had to swim for it, you'd be screwed.  You would sink to the bottom like the Titanic, and then be eaten by barracudas."  I honestly think that if Mr. Kick-board wasn't there I would've walked back to the beginning lane, and called it quits.  But I didn't.  Instead for the next half an hour I swam like a champion.  I didn't care that I probably looked like a manatee that was on its last leg, or that I was huffing and puffing like the little engine that (barely) could, and that I kept drifting into the side of the wall because I am incapable of swimming in a straight line. I kept on going.
When I decided that I was ready for the water Olympics,  I took a deep breath, splayed my hair out in the water, just like a mermaid would do, and then wondered if it would be okay if I brought an inflatable whale with me for next time. :)
And here is a little photographic evidence of my childhood spent as a neon-donned mermaid.  I am the one of the right.  The person on the left is my best friend, and inflatable whale supplier. HA!  Love you, Brooke!