My collection of numbers has become pretty large. Too many birthdays has added a ton of numbers to my age. And I seem to have an uncanny ability to add numbers to my weight. Though it’s tempting to blame COVID19 and the whole stay-at-home scene on the weight dealio, that would be a lie.

All these numbers have resulted in gravitational effects and odd changes to my already unfortunate configuration of body parts.

Thus, naturally, I have an intense dislike of swimwear. At this point my wardrobe includes merely one (very large) swim dress. It’s been my only item of swimwear for probably 6 years now. I’ve worn it perhaps 4 times in those years, and for the last three years I’ve not even been in the sun and/or water at all.

We spent last week at a lovely lake with our lovely family and it was grand. The weather was quite warm one day as I sat in the shade on the shore. Under not just trees, but an umbrella. I wore full cover clothing, sunglasses, and large sun hat with a flap hanging down from the back of it to add shade. Tied under the neck which made it cup around my face like a pioneer bonnet of some sort. Did I look cute? Hardly. More like a science fiction figurine.

Watching the kids and grandkids having fun just a few feet away in the lake water finally got the best of me. I needed to be out there with them.

So I trotted strolled back up to our RV and pulled out the old swimdress. In the above paragraph I mentioned it was about 6 years old. In the above paragraph I also mentioned the rising numbers of my weight. Let’s just say pulling that item of clothing onto my body was QUITE the challenge. I still had a pulse and my respirations seemed normal but let me tell you it was a tight fit. I covered the whole thing with a light weight T shirt to cover my shoulders and the curious rolls that were bulging here and there.

Back at the shoreline was a kayak and I used it to travel out to where the crowd was playing in the water. Once I arrived the kids tied the kayak up to the boat. And then, ideally, I would just easily slip from the kayak to the blue floating mat.

The kids and hubby offered words of encouragement and instruction to just kind of roll onto the mat from the kayak. Seemed simple enough and I soon found myself in a semi-lying position on the edge of the kayak with my knees on the mat. The huge sunhat was still tied to my head, and I was still wearing my sunglasses. And let’s not even talk about my blindingly white hail-damaged legs. Yes, quite the visual. Sorry.

But that’s as far as I could get. For some reason I seemed to be adhered to the kayak and no matter what I did, there I was. Stuck. I mentioned in probably a rather loud voice “I’m stuck to the kayak, I can’t move”. Which of course seemed ridiculous and they continued to try and offer advice and help me from a distance. “Do this, do that, you can do it, just DO IT”

Finally it became apparent to me that my swimsuit bottom had become caught on a hook that was on the edge of the kayak. But because of the tightness of the swimsuit and the unfortunate parameters of my body I could not for the life of me unhook it.

As I flailed about in what surely looked like water ballet gone bad, I heard a rip and suddenly I was in the water. “My swimsuit bottom ripped!” (second high volume announcement)

And bonus, suddenly the suit was quite comfy as I stayed fully covered by the dress part and the water. Ahhhhhh.

After enjoying an hour or so of the nice cool clear water it was time to return to shore. Did I get back into the kayak? Uh, that would be a big NO WAY. I made my way back to shore with clumsy swim-like movements and quickly covered myself up.

None of my family suffered visual trauma. That was a big fear of mine, of course. Perhaps emotional and mental suffering though. There was laughter, that’s for sure.

And the pitiful (very large) swim dress is history.