On land, I can veg in one spot for an obscenely long time; couch potato par excellence essentially. In the water though, I transform into a fast moving, curious, eager to learn creature that I barely recognize. I talk to fish, I somersault at frightening angles to avoid damaging coral and I’ve even almost touched something called Nudibranchs (it’s a sea slug, hence the almost) - don’t ask!
Let me start at the beginning… when someone who only swims under duress, and even then prefers to see if help is at hand by the way of raft/barstool (ideally attached to a fully stocked bar), says they're going to learn to dive, there's going to be sniggers. And so there were. I won't lie to you, I don't swim well. I could save myself when I have to and I am brilliant at chilling in the water, and there it ends. So, its unsurprising that I had several conversations with the dive school folk to cross check that being an excellent swimmer wasn't part of the deal. They said and I quote with some irritation, 'you just need to be able to move around in the water'. Pah…. even I can do THAT I said and off I went.
Skipping ahead I have to say this is one of the most fabulous things I’ve ever done. I love the water, which in itself is a bit odd considering I dislike cold and I hate fish. Being able to move around vast expanses of beautiful space, and weigh about a fraction of what I do normally (read: huuuuge benefit here) - what’s not to like??
But getting to that point was borderline comical; and taught me a valuable lesson. Always. Dive. In. Eyeliner.
My lessons began brilliantly (well skipping past the bit where I had to tell them what I weighed so they could hook me up with weights, and my dress size so I could 'suit up' - so uncivilized I tell you. I vote fake labels so everyone can feel 'awesome'). And stayed that way till I had to do the 'clear mask' which those who dive know is where you have to let water into your mask (gasp) and clear it out to prepare for the eventuality in real life. This is when I was sent to 'special school' because, well, I didn't get the hang of it in a respectable amount of time. Now 'special school' is usually run by a student training to be a dive master; which is a good thing, because they're keen to impress as well and its in their interest to make sure you learn. So I eventually just barely learnt, but had to pass a test for the real teacher. Which I did. Only, with the entire class watching! Albeit with positive vibes plastered all over their faces... but watching nonetheless. Mortified is what I was!
Minor glitch overcome, I continued on with alarming competence. Until the end of the course, where I was casually told to A. stay in 12-foot water for 20 minutes and B. when I was done, swim 20 laps. What the hell?? I specifically asked if I needed to swim and you said no I said. But of course you have to swim they said, shaking head in barely concealed disgust; 'any stroke you like' was the only concession. Oh well, if it needs to be done, sooner rather than later I said (I use the word sooner loosely ;)). So off I went, choosing a backstroke. I got it done; but not in any kind of time I was proud of. Which would have been fine except the rest of the class couldn’t leave till I’d finished. So I emerged, embarrassed, to politely bored faces (and one anxious, semi proud face – my sig other).
I suffered the indignity of being mediocre, of ill-fitting kit and loads more. But from that day on, waterproof make up went into my arsenal!
Let me start at the beginning… when someone who only swims under duress, and even then prefers to see if help is at hand by the way of raft/barstool (ideally attached to a fully stocked bar), says they're going to learn to dive, there's going to be sniggers. And so there were. I won't lie to you, I don't swim well. I could save myself when I have to and I am brilliant at chilling in the water, and there it ends. So, its unsurprising that I had several conversations with the dive school folk to cross check that being an excellent swimmer wasn't part of the deal. They said and I quote with some irritation, 'you just need to be able to move around in the water'. Pah…. even I can do THAT I said and off I went.
Skipping ahead I have to say this is one of the most fabulous things I’ve ever done. I love the water, which in itself is a bit odd considering I dislike cold and I hate fish. Being able to move around vast expanses of beautiful space, and weigh about a fraction of what I do normally (read: huuuuge benefit here) - what’s not to like??
But getting to that point was borderline comical; and taught me a valuable lesson. Always. Dive. In. Eyeliner.
My lessons began brilliantly (well skipping past the bit where I had to tell them what I weighed so they could hook me up with weights, and my dress size so I could 'suit up' - so uncivilized I tell you. I vote fake labels so everyone can feel 'awesome'). And stayed that way till I had to do the 'clear mask' which those who dive know is where you have to let water into your mask (gasp) and clear it out to prepare for the eventuality in real life. This is when I was sent to 'special school' because, well, I didn't get the hang of it in a respectable amount of time. Now 'special school' is usually run by a student training to be a dive master; which is a good thing, because they're keen to impress as well and its in their interest to make sure you learn. So I eventually just barely learnt, but had to pass a test for the real teacher. Which I did. Only, with the entire class watching! Albeit with positive vibes plastered all over their faces... but watching nonetheless. Mortified is what I was!
Minor glitch overcome, I continued on with alarming competence. Until the end of the course, where I was casually told to A. stay in 12-foot water for 20 minutes and B. when I was done, swim 20 laps. What the hell?? I specifically asked if I needed to swim and you said no I said. But of course you have to swim they said, shaking head in barely concealed disgust; 'any stroke you like' was the only concession. Oh well, if it needs to be done, sooner rather than later I said (I use the word sooner loosely ;)). So off I went, choosing a backstroke. I got it done; but not in any kind of time I was proud of. Which would have been fine except the rest of the class couldn’t leave till I’d finished. So I emerged, embarrassed, to politely bored faces (and one anxious, semi proud face – my sig other).
I suffered the indignity of being mediocre, of ill-fitting kit and loads more. But from that day on, waterproof make up went into my arsenal!
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