Tweet In high school we had to take swimming. In gym. It was a requirement. We wore really odd looking swimsuits of which, I have two, because I knew they were a relic then and I thought, hey, they only increase in value with age! And plus I could use those as a punishment someday. As in If you don't clean your room I'll make you go out in public wearing my old gym swimsuit! Is that what you want?
So, yeah. Required swimming in gym class. We were so lucky to have a pool at our school. I tried to get away with the beginning "I'm scared to put my face in the water to make bubbles" class because (1) I don't like exerting any sort of physical energy, and (2) I wanted to hone my acting skills. I had everyone going pretty good - even trembling at the thought of going in water past my stomach - but was busted out when some idiot called me out from across the pool. "Hey! You were diving off the springboard at Jamie's party this weekend - you can swim!" Thanks, buddy. Thanks a lot.
I was moved to Life Saving. Seriously. Life Saving? Now that there is a LOT of work. And gym was first thing in the morning, like, before my eyes were physically capable of focusing. I can't see, people, much less dive to the bottom depths of a pool, pull out heavy objects in an attempt to simulate a rescue, and bring them to the surface. What were they thinking? But I did it because, well, because I was scared of our gym teacher. He was tall and loud and he could get really angry. And loud. Did I mention he could get loud? I was already a target of his glare because I tried to skate by with the bubble blowing class. No way I was going to do anything else to draw attention to myself.
So there I was. Early morning. Diving into a cold pool. Hauling up heavy objects. Swimming the length of the pool to deliver them to safety. Repeat. Down I went. Up I went. Down. Up. Down. Up. When suddenly I was all Holy Mother of Jesus, I'm going to die. Floaters appeared before my eyes. My brain felt like it was being sucked into a vacuum. This was not good.
I sat on the tile at the edge of the pool, vaguely aware of the massive amounts of the fungus now pressed up against my thighs. I got hot. Really, really hot. Then I got cold. Really, really cold. And my vision was beginning to tunnel.
"I don't feel good," I slurred to no one in particular. I stood and stumbled my way into the locker room. Hands on the walls, feeling my way, I'm gonna pass out. Someone help me. But I was all alone. I saw my locker across the way, just gotta get my suit off. I'm too hot... as I fell onto the floor between the bench and my locker.
"Oh, my gawd! Is she okay?"
"Can you hear me?"
"She looks kinda gross."
"Can you open your eyes?"
"I think she's drooling."
I rolled my head to the side, trying to open my eyes. There was Mr. Mean Gym Teacher, two inches from my face. And every single girl in my gym class. Gawking at me.
"Don't move your head," Mr. Mean Gym Teacher advised. "Did you fall? Do you remember hitting your head?"
"... I... don't... know..." I slurred... and then....
"Someone get a towel and cover her up."
Oh. Dear. God. I was naked.