Not long after having my son, I felt my daughter needed a "me" day. So, we gathered some of her friends and headed to the water park. I invited my friend Bonnie and her little girl to come along with us since our daughters were about the same age.
Bear in mind, I still had baby weight and I was, back then, a smoker. I had to weigh close to 250 lbs. - if you ask me, all of that was baby weight. My doctor, on the other hand, would say I was just fat but, what does he know? He's never been pregnant before, right?
Anyway, the point is, it was a little harder for me to get around than it was for Bonnie, who weighed a grand total of 125 lbs. (she adopted, further proving my assessment of baby weight).
We followed the kids around all day long. We did not allow them to run off by themselves, but we did allow them to ride the slides alone and "do their own thang." Where ever they wanted to go, we traipsed behind like a couple of tagalong's. We had to beg for a ride in the lazy river, "Just one, puhleeze!"
Then we had to bribe them with lunch (because we had the money, they didn't) just to spend one hour of their busy schedule in the wave pool, designed to look like a cement beach. What was this, role reversal? We were grateful they agreed. Okay, they were hungry and I won't deny promises of a delicious greasy hamburger, with equally greasy fries, didn't hurt our cause any.
When our hour was up, my daughter, who was the time keeper, decided it was time to move on. We'd had our hour and more importantly, they had their lunch. There were slides that needed repeat sliding on. I noticed Nicky was gone (he was the neighbor's kid). "Where's Nicky?" I asked.
"He's out on one of those tubes in the wave pool," Bonnie answered as she gathered our things together.
"I don't see him."
Bonnie stood up and sun-vised her eyes scanning the cement beach. "There he is," she pointed. "He's way in the back, in the far left corner of the pool. G'head and fetch him if ya want. I'll stay here with the kids and won't let anymore get away."
Fetch? Did she say "fetch him?" What am I, a dog? So, there I went, swimming without an inner tube, to go "fetch" Nicky.
About half way out there they turned the wave machine on. They did that periodically, alternate the waves on an off, and when I had started my jaunt out there, it was off. However, it slowed me down greatly. For every six inches I'd swim, the waves pushed me back twelve more, not to mention, this pool was packed!
I stopped swimming to check my location in comparison to Nicky's location. These three young boys, in their early 20's, were to my right and chattering away like a couple of prepubescent girls when all of a sudden, they stopped talking. It was like noise and then nothing. I looked over at them and saw one of them pointing at me; neither of them saying a word, just pointing. I looked down and saw "my floaties" were floating without coverage.
"Excuse me," I said as I tucked them away. They were filled with milk, what did you expect?
I continued my search for Nicky while keeping my milk-filled floaties under control and getting beat in the head with a bunch of rubber tubes. I couldn't find the little snot anywhere. I looked back toward Bonnie to see how she was making out with keeping the rest of the brood in line when what did I see, Nicky. He was standing there with Bonnie who was helping him dry off as if nothing was happening while I was out there getting beat in the head and unleashing my perky big floaties on unsuspecting impressionable young men. I realize they were only perky and not saggy because of the milk, but they didn't know that.
Swimming back was easy. As I said, the ratio of inches was 6:12 so; it was pushing me to the shore in a relatively short amount of time. I didn’t bother to regale anyone with my tale of woe; instead, I just helped to gather things together so we could move on.
Bonnie, observing what I was doing, said, “Oh, are we going now?”
Did I mention she’s blonde? A true blonde - in other words, the drapes match the carpet.
“Yes, Bonnie, we’re going.”
And so we did. We followed the children around the rest of the day until my blonde ambitious friend says, “You know what I’m going to do? I’m going down one of these slides before we leave. Are you with me?”
“Which one?” I asked hesitantly. I already knew things were going to be a little more dynamically different for me than for her because of the “baby weight.” ’Less we forget, I had perky floaties and she had flat eggs.
Bonnie pointed to one of the slides that resembled an old fashion potato sack ride. It was wavy and big. You can see it from the highway, even now. I thought, okay - it’s not enclosed like a tube where I would be thrashed about getting beaten and bruised inside of it. Instead, I would be, gravitationally speaking, safely glued to the ride all the way down. It was a win-win for me. “Okay,” I agreed.
We got the children situated and made them promise to be still and “watch mommy make an ass out of herself.” I’m sure the threats of closet confinements didn’t hurt either. Maybe it was the promise of another greasy hamburger?
We climbed 14 stories up. Being a smoker, I was gasping for air after the first flight. By the time I got up to the 14th story, I was crawling on my hands and knees and wheezing a merry little tune called “The Air That I Need” out of my lungs.
I got to my feet and grabbed a mat. The attendant informs me I need to put my hands over my head and fold them. Really? Was she serious?! O-M-G!
I looked down the slide and began to have second thoughts about this being a good idea, especially for me. Forget Bonnie; I was worried about me! I glanced over at Bonnie and apparently, my concerns registered on my face because Bonnie says, “Oh don’t be a party pooper! Let's do this!”
I sighed heavily and along with Bonnie, I took flight. I realized, because of my baby weight - or was it my big ass - one of the two was going to cause me to go underwater and so I reached to pinch my nose. I quickly forgot that little plan when my legs flew open showing everyone on Highway 17 everything I had between them.
I quickly forgot my legs being gapped open when I realized, I’m a 250 lb. speeding bullet and my floaties had floated out and were repeatedly smacking me on both sides of my cheeks, stinging my face. There was no way those puppies were getting tied down now, I can tell you that!
I hit the water with so much force that my bathing suit rode up my ass at about 60 MPH. I swear, I thought I had shit my pants! I was so sure of it, I was afraid to exit the pool. I looked around just in time to see Bonnie come whishing down her slide.
I glanced over at the kids and noticed half the water in my pool was over by them and they were giggling about it. “Do that again, Mommy,” my daughter shouts gleefully. “You sprayed us and Bonnie didn't.”
Bonnie is jumping up and down squealing about how much fun that was while I tried desperately to confine my floaties. I was in such distress. I cannot begin to tell you how upset I was.
I tried to gracefully exit the pool as Bonnie runs over to me, still squealing in delight, and hopping up and down. “That was great! Wasn’t it? Do you want to do it again? Let's to it again! C’mon, just one more time before we go! Why are your cheeks so red?”
I glared at her and said, “Because I just boob-slapped the shit out of myself all the way down the &(S# slide!”