Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Taking The Plunge

Briefly, then:

My apartment complex has a pool. I have written elsewhere of the Pod of elderly, obese, Speedo-wearing men that infest it, of their whuffling and spouting. I have written of the small children that never seem to be in the pool, but exist in a constant state of I-AM-ABOUT-TO-CANNONBALL-THEREFORE-I-SQUEAL. I have written of my unwillingness to expose my pasty midsection to the withering glare of my esteemed neighbors.

Today is my last day in this apartment. Tomorrow I move.

I swam today.

The pleasure of finally conquering my self-consciousness contrasted finely with the distaste I felt for Shamu, who very pointedly ceased walking laps when I entered the pool. The exhilaration of not caring how many people see my torso was tempered by the fact that six-and-a-half-foot-tall people must struggle to submerge themselves in pools whose deepest point is 5'. The overwhelming delight I felt in splashing balanced precariously against regret that I hadn't done this sooner.

Carpe diem: for one never knows if the next apartment will have a pool.

It doesn't. And my trunk will be pastier than ever.

Long live the moment!

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