My Chlorinated Soul

To begin with, I’d like to declare that I’ve reached a level of comfort here on WordPress that is incomparable to any place else.

To celebrate this achievement of mine, I’ve decided to disclose one of my ghastly experiences in the swimming pool because why not! Self depricating humour is the best kind.

On a bright Sunday morning, a couple of years back, my dedicated mother decided that she wanted her precious daughter to be more than just academically proficient.

While I had dreams of shooting 3- pointers on a shiny court (basketball), my mother’s ideas were slightly deeper. Literally.

The very next day, she and my stupid cousin plotted my doom together and walked into the local club and signed me up for swimming classes.

Why? Because my cousin was into swimming and my mom thought that her company would make my experience enjoyable.

Each day as I walked by the basketball court in the club, I wistfully stared at the kids all lined up for their warm up. My mom made some unsuccessful attempts at distracting me but like I said, they were pretty much in vain.

The first day.

My excitement was shrouded by tremendous fear and any evidence of pride I had about my flowery swimsuit was long gone.

I plodded along the boundaries of the pool for a few minutes until the coach glared at me from the opposite end.

I fell in line with the rest of the kids and waited to descend into the pool.

Luckily for me, I was more than 3ft and I was able to stand at the shallow end of the pool without fearing death.

Each of us was asked to hold on to our respective “kick boards” and just splash around and get ourselves accustomed to the necessary leg movements.

Ten minutes of heaven right there. I was beginning to like this stuff!

Maybe swimming wasn’t so bad afterall!

The coach came to each of us, held our hands and took us to the centre of the pool and asked us to continue kicking whilst holding our head underwater.

I thought, “Why fear when the coach is here!”.

Just so you know, that confidence didn’t last beyond ten seconds because he let go of my hands and I was desperately trying to come back up and during this time, I felt like my life was already flashing in front of me.

He brought me back up and gave me my kick board back.

Birth of my trust issues.

Immensely hurt by the trickery I was subjected to, I withdrew into a corner of the pool and kicked the water vigorously.

In retrospect, I don’t think I was doing anything out of the ordinary.

Day 2

I was a little more prepared for the deception today.

If only I knew that the trickster had a lot of tricks up his sleeve.

Unusually calm, I went and stood in line just like the first day and waited for the coach’s briefing to end.

“Today you’ll be learning to jump into the water. We’ll stand near the 5ft part and then just jump inside the pool.”

WHAT!!!

My heart was racing and with each person that jumped, my anxiety increased exponentially. I “excused” myself to go to the “washroom” and after looking at me doubtfully for several seconds, the coach slowly agreed to let me go.

In the movies, girls or boys go into the washrooms to prep themselves for their first dates. In my case, I was contemplating matters of life or death.

I have no clue how long I was in there before that old grouch called for me. Why does he even care! He had a hundred other students to teach!

My voice quivered as I struggled to get words out of my mouth.

“N..no sir, please…I can’t jump today.”

He must have been used to annoying and dramatic kids like me because he didn’t budge.

“Will you jump yourself or should I throw you into the 12feet water?”

How dare he threaten me!

At that time, I was willing to fall at his feet and beg him to let me go.

The next few seconds passed by in a flash because he assumed the role of a professional javelin thrower where I was his tiny human javelin.

There was water in every opening of my body and in what was the most unattractive swimming style, I somehow made it to the other end of the pool.

I held on to the edge of the pool and made my way to the staircase.

Hurdles.

Of course they’d be there.

Only, these were multiple boys occupying the corner of the pool and if I had to get to the stairs, I’d have to swim around them.

No. I just worked hard and swam for 30cm and I wasn’t going to do it again. It was too scary.

Here comes the highlight of my swimming coaching.

I used one of the boy’s swimming trunks as leverage and hoisted myself up and out of the pool.

He held on to his trunks like his life depended on it while I held my breath and worried about my life.

The other boys snickered but I wasn’t bothered. All that mattered was that I was out of the pool.

By the time I was through with the partial disrobing fiasco, the kids were already lined up for the second jump. Or maybe it was their tenth. I don’t know. I lost track of time when I was struggling for Oxygen 12 feet under water.

This time I figured that it was better to jump myself than being thrown in like a weightless projectile.

I jumped in without fear this time and felt like I had conquered the world. I grinned at my mother sitting in the gallery and she applauded.

But just like any other moment of happiness, this one was short-lived.

With what was the most excited laugh I heard the coach announce that the next day, we’d be jumping from the dive board.

That’s it. That was the end of my month long swimming lessons.

2 days. That’s all I attended.

After this stressful experience, I took to the pool in my apartment complex and in slow and steady steps, I learnt the art of floating and jumping and any other acrobatics that swimming can possibly involve.

Today, I can’t seem to find it in me to get out of the pool.

A.W.