Exfoliation to Mortification - How does THAT happen?

Warning: Name has been changed to protect the humiliated

I remember when I was a very young girl, I had the belief that teachers and principals actually lived at school. In my mind they slept there, ate there and basically never left the compound. You see, this all made sense and to me because I never saw my teachers anywhere else. They were at school when I arrived and when I left. I suppose in my warped reality their husbands and children just visited them at school. In all probability I couldn’t even imagine them with a husband or even kids. And sex? Oh hell no.  Not a chance. Ewwww gross. Just like thinking about your parents getting it on. Man – I have to erase that picture out of my head immediately.

As I reflect on my perception when I was younger, I can see why students are shocked to see me (their former assistant principal) out and about. They stare and try to place how they know me because #1 out of school I’m usually not walking around in a business suit and pumps, and #2 I must confess that makeup is not a requirement on days off. However, there is nothing worse, let me repeat, nothing worse than having your students see you in a bathing suit, albeit a 2 piece suit. Well maybe a few things worse, but right now for the life of me I can’t come up with one.

So if you've read my prior posts you know I am newly retired and have made a commitment to taking better care of myself. This includes but is not limited to: flossing daily (exciting eh?), drinking more water (ugh), limiting my intake of wine (this is so sad), exfoliating regularly (sounds disgusting) and getting plenty of exercise. Due to the bad weather we have had lately, I have taken up mall-walking (no snorts of laughter please) and I am taking advantage of the county’s Olympic sized indoor swimming pool about 2 miles from my house. 

My neighborhood is not in the same area as the school where I worked, which is the way I like it for a number of reasons. One being that you do not run into the students and parents at the local grocery store and as a result, the ice cream doesn’t melt in your cart when you end up in an impromptu parent conference because they just want to ask a “few” questions. Two, and the most important reason, is when they are not your neighbors they cannot see all the empty beer and wine bottles in your recycling bin and therefore they will not think you are a depraved person moonlighting as an assistant principal.

I normally try and swim in the morning, however one fateful day I decided to go for a late afternoon swim. And as always I donned my 2 piece suit. Ever since I was a little girl I loved the feeling of water on my bare skin. To me, wearing a one piece is like wearing a glove over your torso. Confining, restricting, not for me. Skinny dipping would be just the ticket if being arrested wouldn’t be part of the package. I know that someday as my body increasing submits to the aging process I will have to cave in and swim in a one piece, but I ain’t there yet.

That's me (circa 1964) in the ruffled and polka-dotted, scandalous 2 piece. I was the talk of the 6th grade boy's locker room. I remember coming home completely covered with wrinkles from the water. I still come home that way only now they don't go away!

That afternoon I was a little taken aback as I stepped into the pool pavilion and saw an entire high school swim team in training. But then I thought NO problem. The pool is PLENTY big enough to avoid the teenagers. As I started looking at some of the faces I wondered why they all looked hauntingly familiar. I soon realized it was the high school that my middle school feeds into. Yep – at one time all of these kids were under my domain at the middle school.  At least 30 of them. Now, it’s bad enough to be seen by one student in your almost birthday suit – it’s a whole other ballgame to have an entire team see your gams completely naked, your sagging 60 year old breasts , and your bare stomach complete with wrinkly skin with belly button exposed. Oh the shame of it!!!!

For the first time in my life I was wishing I had a swim cap to hide under, which I have not worn since the 1960s when my father made us wear one in our backyard Florida pool. I was somehow managing to keep my presence there a secret when one student who had been staring at me for some time finally asked, “Mrs. Owens, is that really you?” I sighed, smiled and responded, “Hello Phillip.”

I then heard, reverberating throughout the indoor pool pavilion, “Hey guys! Come here! Look, it’s Mrs. Owens!” I was quickly bombarded with smooth skinned, lean and muscular 15 - 17 year old boys and girls staring at my droopy, wobbly triceps that sometimes, I’m afraid to say, have a life of their own and cleavage that is usually hidden beneath a silk blouse. Behind their smiles and chlorine reddened eyes I could tell they were thinking this had to be the grossest thing they have ever seen and that they would probably be scarred for life. Or at least have night terrors.

They were polite and kind and after chatting for a few minutes we all got back down to business of swimming. But my time at the pool had been compromised. I couldn’t wrap myself in a towel and get out of there fast enough.

Moral of the story is - “Go to the pool when they’re all in school!”  I’m a poet and don’t know it…. and at the pool I did show it. Oh goodness.