Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Do, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help, and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Projectstarted, and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”
This week: Learn to swim.
Once, while on a date, a man grabbed my hand and turned my palms upward. According to his palm reading, a skill he liked to hone during his free time, I was going to be dying soon. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I just say “Thanks” for the free reading? Or should I slip a five dollar bill into his pocket as a way of showing support for his burgeoning career?
He went on to predict that it was going to be a doozy, this death of mine. Then, he cleared his throat and asked if I was in the mood to get a little frisky. I politely declined. The thought of a painful demise really got my blood pumping, though probably not in the way he hoped. He seemed a little disappointed, but I knew things were okay when he let me test his inverted recliner from the Relax the Back store he purchased on a high-interest credit card.
I’m sure it wasn’t related, but he never called me again. He did, however, send me a friendly email reminding me to stay away from charred meats and bodies of water deeper than four inches. Based on a psychic dream he had, all bets were on cancer or drowning.
Had we not been so focused on his new career path, I might have had a chance to explain my reluctance to go near large bodies of water. And by large, I mean anything bigger than a bathtub. Not those fancy garden tubs with jets and shit, I just mean those standard apartment-ready bathtubs.
My hesitation isn’t so much a fear of the water, it has more to do with my inability to swim.
I took lessons at the local YMCA for nearly ten summers as a kid. Each year, my parents enticed me with different rewards. One year, it was a Jem and the Holograms watch. Another year, I had my eye on a Pillow People plush. If only I could just hold my head under the water for three seconds. If only I could just make it twenty feet doing the doggy paddle.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to be drinking a lot of chlorinated water this week. There might be some crying, but I’m learning to swim, even if it kills me. Wait, no, I take that back. You know what I mean.
Ever conquered a fear?
Is there a skill you’d love to learn?
image via knockknock.biz
