Summers in Kansas City can bring temperatures upwards of 104 degrees. This was the case a few years back when our twins Blaize and Milana had swim lessons down at our neighborhood pool. They were 4 years old at the time and our youngest Rocco was 2. While one of them was with their swim instructor, Chad and I could be one on one with the other two making summer moments to remember.
Milana (as usual) went first. I headed to the edge of the pool to get in and relieve Chad of juggling both boys. But I’m kind of a weenie when it comes to the pool. I leave it to floaties, noodles, abandoned innertubes, and Chad for water entertainment. I only go in if it’s melt your head hot. I’m also one that has to condense the going in into a few seconds – jump in – letting the shock hit all at once.
So with my best ‘Let’s Do This’, I dove in. It was cold but with the heat… it was a relief. But let me take you where relief took a flip turn.
I head towards Chad and the boys exercising my preferred water movement… the beloved side stroke. As I approach the boys I stand in preparation to grab Rocco. I wipe my face of the dripping water, adjust my ponytail, and become strangely aware of Chad lunging towards me with a worrisome urgency (both boys in tow). Along with the charging at me, he is saying something with a concerted effort to be softer spoken but deliberate.
“What are you saying?!?” I can’t make out his words. Too many kids. Too many “Marco Polos”. I jet my chin forward as to try and make my face closer to his and hear the intent whispers coming out of his mouth.
“YOUR NIPPLES ARE SHOWING”
It doesn’t sink in.
“YOUR NIPPLES ARE SHOWING”
Sure as a Slurpee in summer both breasts (complete with nipple) were fully exposed to our community (OMG), my neighbors, their children, a woman from Chad’s work and two young (couldn’t be more than 17 impressionable years of age) lifeguards – that with some certainty, I feel I have probably slightly aroused and/or traumatized in one full swoop.
I submerge my want to die self into the water. I pull my want to kill you suit back over my breasts (still not believing this is my life) and figured I’d just stay underwater until everyone left. And then I laughed. Resurfaced and laughed more with my husband and I’m sure the rest of the pool goers but mortification kept me from looking anyone in the eye. And then we went home and put the house up for sale.
I can only imagine how the story continues to be told as some community folklore by the ‘these are the people in our neighborhood’ who were witness to my coming out pool party. But for $15, the twins mastered how to cup their hands and make “Oh SO BIG” splash kicks behind them.
Hope you make a big splash this summer! Just tighten those swim strings mammas and keep the slippage to the slides!
Hugs and LOVE!