Well, today I made a total ass out of myself, but really — what else is new?!
I decided that I was going to take a swimming lesson. Now I know how to swim, I’ve just forgotten how to swim-swim. So, even though the very thought of putting on a bathing suit in public, along with goggles and possibly a swim cap, made me queasy, I did it anyway.
People, I am NOT good at trying new things. Especially in public. With very little clothing on. (Not that I’ve been presented with this particular combination of circumstances frequently, but there waaaaas that one time in college…oh wait. I’m getting off track here.)
Ever since the 2nd grade, when my teacher Ms. Lynne told my Mom during a teacher-parent conference that I was very anxious when it came to trying new things, I have had that label. It’s been My Truth. Maybe the teacher was incredibly gifted and honed in on something that would become a life-long challenge for me. Or? Maybe she was a bitch and her comment was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Who’s to say?
But it is true, it’s very hard for me to tackle anything new, anything I’m not sure I can excel at. Any endeavor outside my comfort zone and I get all sweaty and twitchy and pretty much try to find any excuse for getting out of said activity.
Strangely, in spite (or maybe because) of this unease with the unfamiliar, I often seek out activities that make me face my fears. I have a fear of heights so I took a rock climbing class with a friend (and JESUS CHRIST people, did you know they put a harness on you that squeezes your butt cheeks and people stand below you the entire time, just watching your ass in this very unflattering contraption? I did not know this); went trekking in Nepal (at 13,000 ft. above sea level); and took my co-worker up on his offer to take a few of us flying in his small plane. (Which was terrible by the way and I fervently abandoned my face-my-fears tenet for months after this experience.)
This will sound silly, but I have a fear of trying new exercise classes at the gym and either passing out or vomiting or both, but I try to sign up for new classes periodically even though — no joke — I practically have heart palpitations just thinking about it. I feel like grabbing a Valium, downing a Jack & Coke and doing yoga breathing just to relax. (And also? It’s hard to get through a spin class after this self-medicating routine. Just FYI.)
So, my brilliant idea was to take this lesson, to brush up on swimming and the whole pool etiquette thing which is very mysterious to the outsider. (Well, I do know enough not to pee in the pool for crissakes! I just mean how many people share a lane and what if I’m really slow and all that. Geesh. You give me no credit.)
Anyhoo, I bought a new, sporty swimsuit in please-God-let-this-be-slimming black. But guess what? A black SWIMSUIT is just not SLIMMING. No. Losing that extra 10 lbs. would have been a lot more slimming, but I didn’t quite have enough time to manage that one. So, I stuffed my very white body (after my little skin cancer scare this year I’m a sunscreen freak and OH LORDY my sister got all the Italian genes because I am a GLOWING, SHUT YOUR EYES QUICKLY shade of white) into this black suit and I looked like a giant bag of flour tied up with string. Not attractive.
And because I wear contacts, I had to complete the look with new goggles that were WAY too tight and they squeezed my eyes so tightly my eye balls were bulging and magnified like a hundred times and small children ran screaming when I emerged from the locker room.
And? Speaking of small children…I happened to have this lesson at the exact time a mommy-baby swim lesson was happening. So as I’m heart palpitating and wishing I had not come up with this stupid idea in the first place, I am surrounded by mommies and babies, and half the mommies with babies were PREGNANT. Good LORD woman! You already have ONE, what about the rest of us?!?
At the stroke of 11:30, my 17 year old swim instructor emerged and as she guided me towards the pool, I realized with abject horror that other people were also having lessons at the same time. And these other people were, like, seven years old.
Immediately my thought process was this:
1) holy crap I am a friggin’ loser for taking a swim lesson along with seven year olds
2) I look freaking HUGE next to these tiny little people
3) where the hell is that thermos of Jack & Coke when I need it and
4) OHSHITSHITSHIT fucking HELL they are probably — NO, FOR SURE — peeing in the very same pool that I am about to get into! AGGGRRGGGG!
But with the perky instructor standing there waiting for me to get in the damn water already, I had to drop my towel and get in the damn water already. I shared a lane with a delightful little girl named Maya who basically kicked my ass. As I struggled to follow instructions and stay on my side of the lane so I wouldn’t drown the tiny little child who would just appear out of nowhere like a little wet sea otter, kicking at the right speed and breathing and coordinating all of this with my arms, I felt like a giant, flailing sea creature. Maya probably did three laps to my one.
But you know what? When I finally finished, I told my teacher I would sign up for another class with her. Even though it was horrifically embarrassing, it felt good to do something that I was intimidated by. And I know, being intimidated by a stupid swimming lesson sounds ridiculous, but hey — we all have our ‘things’ right?
So what are your ‘things’? The activities and endeavors that seem so easy for others yet cause you anxiety? BeBop, for example, hates to talk on the phone with people he doesn’t know. I tell him all the time he has stranger danger and how it’s ridiculous he can’t order Chinese take out or make Bosco a vet appointment. I laugh and point too, because that’s just the kind of wife I am.
But I promise I won’t laugh and point at you — let’s hear your ‘things’ people!
Let’s fly our freak flags proudly!!
And if no one comments about their ‘things’ I will be forced to face the sad truth that I am, in fact, a little fraidy cat who’s been paralyzed by the newness of things since the 2nd grade. And that will make Ms. Lynne right. And we can’t have that, now can we?
Like your husband, I hate using the phone. It’s the result of my Mom’s attempt to incourage independence at an early age, because she used to have me make my own doctor’s appointments and such at the age of 10 or so. I thank the gods every day for the advent of email.
I also need to be hyper prepared for any new event in my life. I hate going into situations blindly, and insist on doing all the research I can to make sure I know what to expect. I hate being surprised and will go to great lengths to avoid it.
I like to think we’re eccentric rather than freaks. I’m probably just deluding myself, but oh well.
You are a much braver person than I. I am impressed with people strong enough to conquer their fears head on.
I am a big chicken. I look fear in the face and walk away. I am afraid of change and the unknown. I have a hugely irrational fear of being broke or owing any money. I have worked on conquering the fear of change and I can try my best to prepare for the unknown, but I have no idea how to get past my fear of being broke.
Oh, I also have a fear of swimsuits. I refuse to wear one. Ever.
I too fear talking to strangers (both on the phone and in person). I get the jitters when my boss says, “Go call this person…” She doesn’t understand that I need ample time to work up to phone calls!
I also hate exercising in front of people. I have been able to do it (often bi-weekly), but it still freaks me out every time.
And I hate doctor and dentist visits. Especially with someone new. The fact that I swore to never go back to my previous ob/gyn means I’ll have to face this fear if I manage to get pregnant again. Scary thought!
Way to go! I would never try to overcome my fear of heights. And, getting in a small plane to do it — ahhhh, hell no! You are one brave woman.
Let’s see “my things”:
– I am REALLY scared of heights and, as a result, I do what I can to avoid them (except I love roller coasters, go figure)
– I get motion sickness on boats (and planes if there is a lot of turbulence) like no one you have ever seen before. I’m the jacka$$ turning green the minute the boat leaves the dock. To prove it, I puked and then dry-heaved for 3 hours on a lovely snorkel cruise in Maui on my honeymoon.
– and, of course, I hate walking into a reception where I don’t know a soul but am expected to “network” and “socialize,” eecck.
Tada! My favorite remedy (which I can’t get my hands on except during an IVF cycle) is valium. . .. I’m thinkin’ Jack & Coke would do the trick too. 😉
Korean food frightens me. They have black noodles. BLACK!
I won’t list all of mine because (I won’t pretend I have a life) the laundry is almost done and the dogs need to go out….
I am afraid of flying. No idea why – just always have been. I think it might be because as a child when my grandmother missed her flight I really thought the airline lost her. I was a mess.
I get totally anxious going out in public.
I’m afraid to go to a restaurant by myself and eat.
Ok, that is enough…anyways, I’m so proud of you for facing your fears. I hope no one did pee in the pool! I think I would have run screaming for the hills when seeing all those mommies.
I have phone phobia too. I am so glad not to be self-employed anymore because the stress of cold calling to wrangle jobs was too much for me.
I’m afraid of the gym. Specifically, using any kind of equipment at the gym. I can handle the pool (because I used to swim competitively and know the “rules”) but am afraid to look stupid on weight machines or elliptical trainers. TERRIFIED.
I have no fear of heights but HATE rollercoasters with a passion. That sensation of falling…the worst, scariest, most horrible thing in the world to me.
My goodness what a funny post! I think that could have been me in the not-so-slimming black suit (day-glo white skin and all).
As for my things? I have far too many neuroses to list here. You’d be scrolling for days.
You’re killing me, Watson. I MEAN it. Do you mean to tell me that you are ALSO household- appliance-white despite some Italian ancestry? I can’t stand it. It’s just too weird!
But good for you, swimming with the kiddies! You’re a braver woman than I–on so many different levels. (Pee and mommy-angst aside, I sink like a stone–a flailing, sputtering one–immediately upon entering any body of water. It’s not pretty.)
As to fears: I’m in agreement with those above who hate parties or gatherings where I don’t know anyone–or only, say, the hostess. I feel weird and ugly and awkward–and trying to act like a normal person uses me up so much that I want to go lie down halfway through. (Which, now that you mention it, explains some of that sluttiness back in the day…) I’m also terrified of flying. PETRIFIED! So, of course, the universe thought it would be a laugh riot to send me a mate who lives on the other side of the Atlantic, and who I have to fly over to see several times a year. Hilarious, right?