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Enjoy!
I
forgot my swimming suit! This is
not usually a big deal, but Rob
and I had been looking forward to
this resort vacation for several
months. We were taking time out
to create Sacred Space in our
marraige. We were on our way to
Squaw Valley near Lake Tahoe. I
was attending a seminar in
Body-Mind Healing for continuing
education credits, and he was
accompanying me for rest and
relaxation.
We
were several hours away from our
home in Aromas when it struck me
out of the blue. I had thought
about my swimming suit yesterday,
reminding myself mentally to take
it, but as soon as I had the
thought, I immediately forgot it.
Its funny how minds often work;
I have an idea, and my mind says,
"done", and then I can forget it
and go on to other thoughts. And
I've learned to immediately act
on those passing
thoughts.
Usually
I do. Clearly I should have put
the suit in the suitcase as soon
as the idea flitted through my
mind. Clearly. So here I am,
driving with Rob to the resort,
without a swimming
suit.
What's
the big deal? I love swimming in
giant pools. Swimming in giant
pools is one of the reasons for
taking vacations. Snow-capped
peaks surround the giant swimming
pool at Squaw Valley Resort. The
last time we were there, a year
ago in May actually, we frolicked
in the heated pool while soft
snowflakes drifted from massive
clouds, down onto the water,
melting in quiet sizzles of
steam.
"Just
buy another suit when we arrive,"
Rob reasoned. I have so many
suits. I have a dozen tank suits
and a few semi-fashionable suits.
"I don't need another swimming
suit," I responded.
"Maybe
there'll be something in the lost
and found at the desk?" He tried
again to help me.
"Yeah,
right," I thought to myself, "I
don't even want to imagine
wearing a strangers swimming
suit, I mean, its a pretty
personal item." "I'll figure
something out when we get there,"
I mused quietly.
The
5-hour drive was uneventful, and
we arrived after dinnertime. It
was cold there! We had left sea
level Santa Cruz in shorts and
sandals. When we arrived at the
mountain elevation, the wind was
blowing old snow off the
mountainside and onto our car. It
was just over 32 degrees in the
shade, and my toes quickly turned
blue as I stepped outside. I ran
inside the lodge to check us in,
while Rob parked the
car.
The
next evening after my conference
I debated my options pool side.
There were only a few people in
the pool, although the 3 hot spas
were well tenanted. "Let's see
what I can come up with," I
wondered out loud to
myself.
The
evening before, Rob had offered
his swim trunks to me. I actually
tried them on! Now those of you
who know us, might get a chuckle
out of this image. Rob is 6'2"
tall and I'm 5'2" tall. He
probably weighs 75-80 pounds more
than me too, although neither of
us has weighed in recently. I
stood in front of the mirror in
our room, and laughed out loud!
I looked like a little kid in her
dads shorts, except this little
kid had 50-year-old breasts. It
was not a pretty
sight.
So
then I tried adding my Reebok
sports top. It has a tight sports
bra built under the stretchy
Lycra tank. Now I looked like a
short man in an old fashioned
swimming costume. Rob's swim
trunks draped well past my knees.
I actually considered trying it
out pool side, but just couldn't
get up the courage. I was
satisfied to experience that I
still had a shred of female
vanity left. Not much, but a
shred. I sat down and watched TV
for a while, thinking that if I
waited, and then looked in the
mirror again, I might look
better. I didn't.
So
then I tried the Reebok top with
a pair of Rob's boxer shorts. He
had hurriedly purchased a package
of Jockey cotton boxers the day
before, and in packing had thrown
them into his suitcase unopened.
I had noticed that he had grabbed
and purchased them in a size
"small". He'snot a size small.
But some things you just
shouldn't tell your man. I knew
he'd discover it on his own
sooner or later. I tried on a
pair and I actually looked pretty
cute.
"This
would work," I chuckled. Now I
looked like a young man in an old
fashioned swimming costume. Or a
dyke. I least I didn't look old.
"I can manage this. I can do
this," I uttered to the mirror,
raising my courage. "I can do
this."
I
put on the big, fluffy white robe
that the resort provides, slid
into my sandals and headed for
the elevator. There were a few
people in the elevator with me as
we rode the 7 floors down to the
ground and pool side. I felt very
naughty, as though maybe I was
naked under my robe. They didn't
know. I might have been. I tried
to act cool and nonchalant. "Here
I am in my husband's jockey
shorts, and I'm going to go
swimming in the pool," I might
have said to them with raised
eyebrows and a sidelong
glance.
I
left the elevator and walked
across the courtyard. It was
getting pretty cold again,
although the setting sun was
shining down onto the nearby snow
laden golf course. There were a
few teenage boys in the pool,
yelling and horsing around. I
nonchalantly lay down on a lounge
chair, which I had pulled over to
the very edge of the pool,
waiting for the boys to leave.
When they did, I surreptitiously
edged out of my robe, and jumped
quickly into the pool. I was in
the water. No one could see what
I was wearing.
You
may have wondered where Rob is
this whole time? I mean, I
haven't mentioned him at all,
except at the beginning. He
decided to try his luck in Reno
at the roulette wheel. So he was
over the border, in Nevada,
gambling his limit, and I was
here gambling I wouldn't get
busted by the resort fashion
police.
I
leisurely swam several laps on
the surface, then many laps under
water. I love to swim under the
silence of the surface, looking
with open eyes through the water
at the sky and now capped
mountain tops. When I was tired,
I floated on my back. This was
what I had come for; floating
weightless in a very big pool,
gazing up into the dreamy blue
sky as the sun sets red and
golden. Time stood still. I
relished the contrast of
temperatures, my face cool, andmy
body warm. I didn't care what I
was wearing, I only cared that I
was legally clad, and permitted
entry. I floated for what seemed
like hours, lost in meditative
dreams.
When
the noisy teenage boys came back,
I regally walked up the stairs,
out of the pool with water
dripping from my baggy cotton
jockey shorts. I didn't care who
was looking at my saggy cotton
butt. I didn't turn around to
see. Besides I couldn't see. I
had left my glasses on the lounge
chair with my robe.
I
quickly wrapped the hotel robe
around my wet limbs as the frigid
wind picked up, and headed for
the hot and steamy spa. Now wait
a minute!
Spa
#1 was filled with singles
flirting and enjoying their wine.
Spa #2 had a family and friends
in it. Spa #3 had several middle
aged women in it. "I can do this,
" I thought. "They won't judge
me."
It
wasn't too bad. They didn't stare
as I dropped my robe and stepped
into the spa. They were all
wearing quite fashionable
tankini's and slim suits, but
hay! I was making a fashion
statement too. I even sat on the
edge of the spa flaunting my
sports-bra smashed Reebok
breasts.
I
noticed that one of the buttons
on my jockey shorts was
unbuttoned and I actually was
revealing much more than I
intended. "Where are you from?"
one of the middle aged women
asked in a friendly manner.
"Santa Cruz," I replied.
"Ah….," she murmured as they
all nodded knowingly, as though
that explained my swimming
costume. And in fact it probably
did. Creative and courageous
spirits are capable of creating
Sacred Space wherever we go, no
matter what costume we currently
wear, even if we have to do it by
ourselves.
Warmest
renewal regards to all my
friends, Carol
Please
feel free to write
back with your own
experiences.
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