. . . happened today.
But first . . . an update on the search for Mr. Wright . . .
I popped in to PoF to check for new messages. I've been emailing back and forth with a guy I shall nickname "Sauce Guy." Because in one of his first emails, he mentioned he liked to cook, but doesn't know how to make a good sauce. I thought that was kind of adorable.
Anyway . . . as I'm getting ready to respond to his latest email - a chat box appeared! It was Sauce Guy! I am much better at chatting than I am at texting. And it was a good conversation. He seemed genuinely interested in me, asking some great questions. I had some good questions of my own. (OK, to be honest, all the questions were regular "get-to-know-you" questions) As the conversation lulled a bit, I took a chance and let him know I'd love to talk to him and gave him my phone number. After 30 long and agonizing seconds, he sent me his!! Which is great! Except . . . does that mean the ball is in my court or his?? Who does the first calling?? See, I thought by giving him my number, that meant he had to call me . . . but then he gave me his number . . . so . . . ???
Yes, I know, I'm neurotic.
Still with me? Yes, I was incredibly brave in giving him my phone number. But that was not the most brave thing I did today . . .
I've been going to the university to swim laps. Open swim is 11am - 2pm weekdays during break (lame hours) and I usually go at noon or 12:30. Today I went at 11:30. I changed into my new Speedo racer-back pink & black swimsuit, walked into the pool area, and nearly hyperventilated. All but 2 lanes of the pool were full . . . of hunky, chiseled swim-team guys. I didn't lose my breath over the hot guys (seriously, beef-cake hot) but over the fact that I was not wearing a neck-to-toe covering mu mu.
See, here's the thing. As a chubby girl, I try to keep my body as camouflaged as possible. As a chubby girl who lost a crap-ton of weight after gastric-bypass surgery, I also have a lot of extra skin that I usually keep tucked away. (Try and get that image out of your head) Usually, I wear a swim suit that has a little skirt that hides my saggy, chubby legs & belly. But not today. Today, I was wearing a suit that would make actually swimming easier, because it had LESS FABRIC. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to cry. I wanted to say something funny that would make everything all right. I wanted the ground to open up underneath me, swallow me whole, and never let my thighs see the light of day again. I was horrified and terrified. I really, truly wanted to cry.
But I didn't. I walked my chubby ass to the super-awkward steps. And I GOT IN THE FREAKING POOL. And then I started to swim. Did you know that you cannot swim and cry at the same time? Because you will choke on water. There is nothing that more effectively stops a potential crying jag than the threat of drowning. So I swam. And swam. And swam. I swam slow and steady. 17 laps. 1/4 mile.
Getting in that pool is one of the bravest things I have ever done.