By W R Jones
Look like they are in trouble? I had that same “deer in the headlights” look at last Thursday’s water aerobics class. Erin convinced me I should take her class. I, fool that I am, told her ok, but I thought the class was for fat old women. I was to eat those words, or maybe drown in them is a better description.
Except for one young boy there with his mother, I was the only male. I was expecting to be in the pool with a herd of water buffalo so I was pleasantly surprized at the number of attractive women. Feeling this might not be such a bad class after all, I got into the water. It is very odd, but I could have sworn I heard sighs of relief from the other students. They had most likely been overwhelmed by how good I looked in my home made trunks.
I’ve always been fashion conscious although you wouldn’t know it by listening to my daugher’s comments on my apparel. I know thongs are in style with the younger (way younger) set, but with the recent financial disasters I could not afford to buy one. I created my own design using a Glad bag and a couple of rubber bands. I was looking like 10,000 dollars worth of nickels.
For the first 20 minutes we waved our arms and legs around in the water. It was sort of ballet type moves so I was glad it was underwater where no one could see. I started thinking the class was a waste of time and then…. it got a LOT harder. We were told to raise both feet out of the water in front of us and paddle back and forth across the pool in this position. Then, this not seeming hard enought to suit Erin, do the same thing with both feet out of the water but legs spread.
I was flailing in an effort to keep my head out of the water so’s I could breathe once in a while. In a vain effort to deceive (this is so unlike me), I tried keeping one foot on the bottom and one foot out of the water moving back and forth so fast it would seem like both feet were up. The water was too deep. Erin, sweetheart that she is, made sure everyone in class knew who the drowning old geezer was; “you alright over there, BILL?” At least I think that was what she was saying. It is hard to hear with your head under water.
I’m dying thinking there is no way I can do this sort of thing for 40 minutes. Meanwhile this 70 year old walrus is coming at me from across the pool with her feet high out of the water, a serene look of no effort on her face, and skimming along on the top like a water bug.
Later, Erin announced an exercise to the class that had them all groaning. Oh lordy, what is coming now? She told them she was going to be a little easier for my sake. It was treading water with first one hand out, then the other, then both. By then I was hanging on to the side for dear life asking myself what had I been thinking to try this.
Like many things in life the best part is saved for last. That would be getting out of the water on a winter night; with the car parked a LONG ways away (so I could have a cigar and Snickers) without being chastised. I literally shivered my ass off. It came right off. Now my pants hang concave back there.