The Swimsuit Issue

This week marked my return to the pool for more reasons than just working on my tan or entertaining my kids. I’ve decided to train for a super-duper tiny triathlon, and consequently, this will require some swimming. Now before you get all impressed, you should know that I’ve done one before, about four years ago, between the births of Mr. Skywalker and Princess Lea. The one I did before was more challenging. The one I did before required more training. The one I did before seemed more sophisticated. The one I did before included men in the race.

So I’m starting over again, and despite the short distance of this race, triathlon training at any level requires a certain amount of commitment to the training. It is not easy to just go biking or swimming. Biking requires time, a lot of distance, and a bunch of equipment, namely the bike itself. Swimming requires, well, going to a body of water . . . and getting wet. Running requires much less stuff, time, and is not as wet (unless you are Darth Vader, who comes home and drips sweat all over the kitchen floor - - hazardous and gross to those of us barefoot-for-the-summer people), or at least it does the way I’ve gone about it. Walk out your door and run. Simple as that!

I arrived at the triathlon decision because running alone is not getting me where I want to be. Certainly, I have gained some cardiovascular endurance, but I haven’t dropped the extra pounds that I had hoped, I haven’t been able to vastly increase my distances due to excuse making (see last week’s entry), and frankly, I just don’t like it enough. I mean, I dislike it so much that I spent $35 plus shipping for a shirt that says, “Running Sucks.” Unfortunately, I did this before I thought about what I would say when my kids asked me what the letters spell on my shirt. I can’t even wear it! Okay, I wear it. I just tell my kids that it says, “Running is Awesome!!” but Princess Lea will figure out the real answer soon.

Once I made the commitment to myself that I really would do this triathlon thing again, I made a little training plan in my head and a list of supplies I would need. Luckily, all I could come up with was a swimsuit for training in the pool (and new tires for the bike, a bike computer, a better bike seat, better watch, etc., but let’s not think about that stuff right now.) You know, the Speedo kind. So I dragged Princess Lea to the Nike outlet hoping to find something simple, suitable, and Speedo-ish. “Ummm, yeah, we didn’t get any suits in this year,” the nice Nike salesperson quipped. Frustrated (me mostly), we distracted ourselves with back-to-school sales and the playground at the outlets, and then I pulled her along to Dick’s, promising a smoothie if we could just make it through one more store.

Of course Dick’s could deliver on the swimsuit, but their selection was kind of small, so, having kept my daughter in shopping mode for much longer than she is normally willing to endure, I grabbed the most unassuming, slimming, blackest suit I could find in my size and countered it with a psychedelic, tie-dyed swim cap that I was actually excited to squeeze onto my head, and we hit the checkout. I mean, my size is my size, right? Who needs to try the bathing suit on? This is a one-piece, swimmer’s suit. This is not the same as a beach/pool suit. I should not have to order my customary 5-10 suits, spend gazillions of dollars in the process and then send them all back only to settle on one from Target, right?

Wrong.

The day was planned perfectly, like any self-respecting, stay-at-home-just-for-the-summer mom would do it. We were going to be up at 7:30, the kids would be deposited nicely in the childcare at the gym by 8:30, and I would be in the pool by 8:45. At 8:10, I went upstairs to change into my new suit. Pulling it on, it felt a bit snug, but hey, I was a lifeguard before, and I spent a couple of my younger years on a summer swim team, a new suit is supposed to be a little snug, this is how it works. I looked in the mirror. “Acceptable,” I thought, and turned for a profile view . . . “Ugh! What is THAT??” I asked the mirror. I got closer. I wiped the dust from the mirror. I looked again. What I saw is the fact that the fine people at Speedo have reduced the rear-end portion of their suits by at least 50 percent. I should’ve known, I mean, I did not fail to notice as all of the fathers’ heads at swimming lessons all did a simultaneous 180 degree swivel as the cute, young swimming instructor passed them by with her clip board. I remember thinking, “Wow, that suit is a little low in the back, yes?” but this wasn’t really on my radar as I picked out my own.

Now I know what you are thinking, “Maybe, Kelly, it’s just your backside that has increased by 50 percent, not the other way around,” but I can say honestly that even though I am not the same size that I was at the tender age of 17, my size now is my size now. It should fit, right? It’s not like I’m trying to squeeze into something smaller or need some kind of reality check about my figure. A bathing suit in my size should not be a squeezing device for love handles!!

Basically, that’s what I saw - - squished love handles. Love handles amplified by a too small rear of a bathing suit. “THIS is NOT going to work, “I thought, or more honestly, said aloud to myself. Simultaneously, a crack of thunder interrupted my thoughts. Great. My suit does not fit and now the pool will be closed for 20 minutes - - as long as there is no more thunder. Another rumble. “It’s a SIGN!! YES! That’s it!! Mother Nature has decided for me that this suit will not cut it. I cannot be seen by anyone, even the 15-year-old, acne-faced lifeguard with these back bulges!!”

At this moment, the good angel appeared on my shoulder. “Oh, but I have been planning this swim for like four days. It’s my first swim! If I miss this, my entire training plan could be ruined! Stop being so vain! Nobody cares! “I ran downstairs to go check it out in the basement mirror. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad from another view.

On my way, I ran into my children, who were surprisingly eating a very civilized breakfast at their kid table in the living room, watching some Phineas and Ferb. I tried to take advantage of this and snuck quietly past . . .

“MAMA! WHAT IS THAT??”

Oh my little Skywalker, he doesn’t miss anything. “It’s my swimsuit.”

“Are you going running in THAT??” he asked. Princess Lea just stared.

“Oh, no, Buddy, I’m going to swim some laps in it . . .maybe,” and I’m sneaking, sneaking, sneaking behind the half wall between the living room and the hallway.

“Where’s your other one?”

“Don’t worry about it, big guy. Just eat your breakfast.”

Break! I took the silent pause as my moment to escape to the basement. I looked at the front. Good! What was I worried about? Turned to the side . . . ugh. There they were. Turned to the back . . . and as if on cue once again, a rumble of thunder.

Taking my hint from Mother Nature, I canceled my swim for the morning. I probably could’ve sucked it up, and in, and made the suit work, but after fretting about it for a half hour, and with the passing storm, a morning swim just wasn’t going to work with the schedule for the rest of the day.
There is, however, a positive ending to this story. After dropping the kids with my mom for the afternoon and having a fun lunch with some good friends, I rallied. I would not let this first day of swim training pass me by. After lunch, I stopped in Hudson’s All-Star Sports, which, to my delight, was exactly what I was looking for. They cater to the high school athlete, but they have a huge wall of swimsuits, a plethora of Lycra that would suit a wide range of aqua-minded folks. I grabbed a suit one size bigger, sized up the rear, and took it home.

Twenty minutes later, I was comfortably gliding my way through the cool water, listening to the rhythmic sound of my breathing, and feeling a little impressed about the way my body just does what it is supposed to do when I’m swimming - - even after taking a four year break. Even after what it took to get there, I can say that swimming definitely does not suck. Somebody should make a t-shirt that says that.