Double Mermaid = Double Fucked

Oooh hoo hoo. Some of you will know that I struggle a bit in the swimming pool, it comes from essentially being a big old pile of lard that just bobs up and down on the spot like a buoy and so the thought of spending 90 minutes every Monday night propelling myself through the water will fill me with dread for a long time to come.

The first class is your usual aqua shenanigans, aerobics with a bit of toning thrown in for good measure. It’s in the shallow end so your feet can remain firmly on the floor if needed and apart from a bit of slippage when trying to change direction quickly the chances of say drowning or injuring yourself are quite slim. Well I say that but actually, if I don’t buy a more supportive swimming costume I’m liable to get a broken nose from getting smacked in the face by a wayward breast. I also believe the young lifeguards would prefer it if I left my wabs untethered and free to bounce about as I schlepp my way round the pool – if I had a dollar for every time I looked up and clocked one watching my mammaries then I’d have quite a few dollars indeed.

The second class is when the fun really kicks into gear, the first challenge being to put a buoyancy belt on without having to get out of the water. Easier said than done actually or maybe it’s just me being a cack handed moron and you’d all be able to do it with the grace of Audrey Hepburn, y’know if she was still alive and felt like doing deep water aqua fit at Bitterne Leisure Centre on a Monday night. My overwhelming desire as soon as I strap the buoyancy aid on is to cling to the floor and not let go but unfortunately the clue is in the name and ‘deepwater aqua fit’ is held at the deepest depths of the pool where even Long Tall Ally can’t tread. It’s all about core strength (I have none), muscle tone (again, I have none) and the ability to stay upright and facing the front in the pool using balance (I’m buggered quite frankly). I made it through the class with my life intact but my dignity was shot to pieces and so realising I’d already been chalked up as a nob by the other ladies in the class I decided in for a penny in for a pound and unleashed the mentalness.

Having had my aqua gloves tucked under my swimming costume strap so they didn’t get mixed in with the gakky gym ones it only seemed right to put one under each strap like epaulettes and pretend to be Cheryl Cole in the ‘Fight For This Love’ video on the poolside. Because isn’t that exactly what any of you lot would have done? What do you mean, no? It’s all a bit bizarre really when you think about the fact that I still hate having my thighs and wobbly bits on display and yet I’m happy to draw attention to myself by acting like a total bell end in front of a load of strangers. It’s the dichotomy I tend to live my life by, the old I hate you don’t leave me, I’m the centre of attention don’t look at me I’m shy bollocks. It would be nice to be at least a little bit consistent in my approach to things, but until hell freezes over and that happens you’ll find me on the edge of the pool pretending to be a skinny Geordie bird with small thighs and big hair whilst my thighs wobble about.

And I blinkin’ love it.

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