We show up regularly to water aquatics class. Mostly women — a few gents too — shaking our booties at 8:00 a.m. The heavily tatted instructor shouts out the movements:
“Run-in-place: take it up to a 3!”
Then: “Now pick it up! Take it to a 4!!!”
Jeesh. I was happy at 3. Why doesn’t she factor in the resistance from the water as we run? 3 could be the new 4. I need protein. Why didn’t I eat that egg before I came here?
“Take it to a 6!!!!!.”
Then relief comes — the cross-country ski stride. Long, luxurious, and slow.
But not for long.
Now it’s “Raise your knees high and wide. We’re doing tire pumps.”
Next, it’s the bicep-busting Maytag wash machines with water weights, kick-backs for rocking horse which ache my sacroiliac, and finally “the Marilyns.” This is a set of 100 jumps where we press our foam weights between our thighs. The instructor named them after Marilyn Monroe.
Don’t ask me why.
And show me a woman in the class who could live up to the Blonde Bombshell’s standard.
No. We are the Mer-Crones.
Our hair may be gray or dyed or hiding under flowered bathing caps, but we perk up in the water, wear glorious smiles as our float belts carry our spotted, wrinkled, sagging flesh around the pool.
And we are wise. Bikinis? Gauche. Much more comfy to sport a 1940’s-style Esther Williams swimsuit. You know the kind — the halter one-piece with a bit of drape to cover the tum? Nice, tight spandex to tuck the bum?
I applaud you, Lands End, for providing quality and variety in women’s swimwear.
Until I discovered LE, finding a good swimsuit was a search for the Holy Grail.
But back to aquatics class.
I have a hard time keeping up with Mary. Mary is 75 years old and jabs her water weights like Rocky Graziano.
If I live to be her age, will I have such stamina?
(Confession: back when I was a smirking mermaid, I used to swim laps adjacent to what I deemed The Codgers Aquatics Class.)
How times change😊.
I am in awe of the peeps in class who show up with battle scars.
Take, for instance, one of the men in the class. “Foghorn Brad” (so named by the instructor for his bellowing interruptions) returned to the pool only three weeks after melanoma surgery. Though he habitually annoyed the instructor with his thundering disruptions of our foot circles (shouting out REVERSE and causing the water to ripple with his booming voice), I noted that the instructor smiled, glad to see that he had returned.
And me? I shall defend being a mer-crone, whatever the cost may be. I shall never surrender.
3 thoughts on “Confessions of a Mer-Crone”
Sound like fun – can AGMA join in? I could be a Mer-Crone – other than I really don’t like the water. Is it cold or comfy? I especially don’t like cold water. What a picky b*tch I am…
Thanks for the tip on LE! I’ll have to take a gander next year when the threat of having to put my body in water is imminent.
Dive right on in, AGMA. We’d enjoy your company. Pool temp: colder than bath water but not as cold as Puget Sound which I braved maybe twice in 20-some years.
I am curious when you mention “the threat of having to put my body in water” next year. Baptism or visiting the tropics? So glad I could tip you off on LE. Their suits are excellent. Well-made, supportive undergarments, also very hip. Splish, splash. See you in the pool!
One attraction of aqua aerobics for me is the fact that it doesn’t include quick turns if the head. I’m thinking about giving it a go…
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