Water Torture / February 24 2008
My cousin was having a birthday party for her fiver-year-old son at the swimming baths in Mansfield yesterday and I had been cajoled into going along and joining in the ‘fun’.
I tried to get out of it. ‘I hate swimming. I can’t swim. And anyway I can’t go because I’ve got to iron my socks and I have to clean the windows and I haven’t got any swimming trunks and anyway – ’
‘You’re coming,’ she told me.
I folded my arms and rolled my eyes. ‘No trunks.’ I said with a shrug.
‘Oh stop it!’ she snapped. ‘You have a pair of white Speedos; I remember seeing you in them last summer.’
‘They’re far too small,’ I protested. ‘They leave nothing to the imagination, you can see everything. Trust me, children will faint . . . and those that don’t will be scarred for life.’
‘You’re coming,’ she said, smiling. ‘They’ll be fine - you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.’
Four hours later, standing in the changing-rooms at the Water Meadows Wet Centre, I told myself it would soon be over. I could hear the screams and happy laughter of splashing children as I made my way along the echoing corridor that leads to the large pool. It felt like I was walking towards the gallows. Bile began to rise in my throat.
Just before I went through the heavy, swinging double doors, I caught sight of myself in a full length mirror and a tear formed in the corner of my eye.
Filed under Embarrassment / Humour
Comments
One comment on “Water Torture”
Nelson Galaxy / February 26th, 2008 at 5:50 pm
I for one do not want to see you in your trunks. Ever.
Leave a comment
