I’m having a full-blown body image BLOW OUT.
It’s true. Cancel f*cking Christmas, ‘cause when this girl has a meltdown the disturbance in the force can be felt on both sides of the equator. (Think I’m kidding? Just ask the peeps who know me best.)
Here’s what has me sideways:
Late last week I had the lambent idea to register for a 2-day swimming intensive in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Why? Well if I’m honest, it’s because I’ve been busting my ass in the water for 6 long months and at best have seen zero sum gains. (Trust me, it gets old wrecking your hair, skin and nails week after week trying to shave mere seconds off your 200.)
But hang on… before I hop head first into all things blow out; let me tee up the rest of the story first:
A few months ago, I was perusing the shelves of my local Barnes and Noble, (is there anything better?), and ran across the book Total Immersion: The Revolutionary Way to Swim Better, Faster and Easier by Terry Laughlin. Knowing I had loads of room for improvement in the water I thought, “Hell yes, this is the one-way ticket out of sucksville I’ve been searching for.”
So, I bought the book and got busy reading.
By chapter 2 I knew I was in waaaaaaaaaaay over my head. (Not because I don’t know how to read… I do, thank you Jesus. But because I found it to be damn hard to apply what I was learning to my actual stroke.)
Note: Trying to read a book about how to swim is like trying to learn how to blow your nose, quit your job or fall in love from someone else’s experience. You just have to do it, ya know?
Knowing I wasn’t going to get very far on my own, I hopped on the Total Immersion website to look for free video tutorials. That led to looking for a coach in my area, which led to a 2-day intensive in Minneapolis the following weekend.
When I saw they offered workshops, I knew I had a decision to make: Either I could put my money where my mouth is and go get some help from the real McCoys…
… or, I could continue to battle it out on my own and hope for the best. [I chose the ‘seek help’ option as historically hope has been a lousy strategy for me.]
Now here’s where the meltdown comes in:
When you register, they send you the ‘description’ of what the workshop entails along with what you need to bring to set yourself up for success. I won’t bore you with all the deets, but two things immediately got my cackles up:
The first: Numerous video sessions will be uploaded for free for your viewing after the clinic. (For cryin’ out loud, no one really wants to see themselves in a compromised position like that. I’d rather burn those tapes than ever have to watch them.)
The second: Bring an extra towel + suit along with a thermal rash-guard type shirt for warmth.
Honestly… I think the ‘we’re going to record your guacamole-lovin-ass under water’ is fairly self-explanatory. (I.e. horrific.)
But it was the ‘bring an extra towel + suit’ line that spun me out entirely.
Hint: First off, if you’ve ever tried to find your SIZE in a competitive suit, you know they make you feel like a tub-a-wub. Second, once you DO find your size, you can hardly get over the shock of how bad you look. And finally, finding ONE suit is hard enough… having to find a second last minute feels like a soul-level violation.
With my trip fast approaching, yesterday I knew it was time to hit up my local swim shop. When I walked inside I instantly felt overwhelmed. (I hate to shop for one… and I hate to shop for swimsuits even more.) There must have been ten thousand suits stuffed in that store – and none of them looked like they were going to do me any favors.
After a few minutes of trying to find what I need on my own, the sales rep stepped in and directed me to the rack with my size.
Not one to waste time, I grabbed 6 of the cutest suits I could find and quickly took the walk of shame back to the dressing rooms. (I already know this is going to be baaaaaadddd.)
Within minutes of tugging up the first slip of too tight spandex, I felt desperate, depressed and defeated.
Note: I’m seriously standing in a fluorescent-lit dressing room (which sucks anyway) in an ‘oh f* this is worse than I thought’ 1-piece navy blue TYR suit. The top is so tight it’s giving me back fat… the bottom is so loose it looks like your grandma’s underpants. As I give myself the once over in the mirror three things cross my mind: 1) I’m aging 2) My thighs look monstrous and 3) By chance would a tan make this situation any better?
As quitting wasn’t an option, I continued to try on suits until I settled on one that was sufferable.
With my items in tow, I made my way to the checkout counter. A mere $152 later, I’m out the door with everything I’ll need to purportedly survive my next adventure.
When I got home, I couldn’t help but Google, ‘how to look thinner in your wretched one-piece swimsuit’. Leave it to wikiHow to tell me: stand up taller, wear a hat, add accessories and drop a few pound you crazy b*tch.
P.S. I haven’t blogged much lately, but I HAVE been sharing outrageous stories with the ladies in my Sole Sisterhood. If you’re ready to become a member, (it’s FREE!), get in on the action here. (I’m sharing a bitty about a super cute 20-something dude tomorrow, don’t miss it!)
P.S.S. I’m looking for 2-3 runners for my Market to Market relay team in Iowa the weekend of May 9, 2015. If you’re interested, email me at info@BrookKreder.com and I’ll send you the details.
P.S.S.S. This guy was hanging out downtown last weekend – I ended up giving him $10 bucks. (Hey, that was 40 freakin’ jokes – which would have been a scream if I’d have stuck around that long. Truthfully, I just wanted his pic instead.)