Update

Meanwhile...

Ms. Wet practices!
*

*

*

Ms. Dangerous takes a beach vacation!

Ms. Dangerous tackles the ocean.

The ocean tackles Ms. Dangerous.

Lesson 6.

Ms. Wet begs to start with freestyle, rather than with diving. Instructor C tells Ms. Wet she is doing so well that she looks like a lap swimmer, never mind that her lap starts at 4 feet and ends in the middle of the pool at 5 1/2. Ms. Dangerous again struggles with synchronizing breathing. Instructor C repeatedly points this out in case Ms. Dangerous, in her gasping, has failed to notice.

Instructor C wants Ms. Wet to swim to the deep end. Ms. Wet refuses, so Instructor C settles for ordering Ms. Dangerous to do it instead. Ms. Dangerous makes it to the end of the lane, still struggling a bit with breathing, yet showing off her treading skills in 12 feet of water.

"You're treading!" exults Instructor C, who then proceeds to announce that she has no confidence in Ms. Dangerous's ability to swim, but she has total faith in Ms. Wet. Ms. Dangerous frowns, treading furiously, but Ms. Wet has yet to be convinced.

Then, Instructor C gives Ms. Dangerous and Ms. Wet an abbreviated instruction in backstroke. In 2 minutes, Instructor C covers the main points, then holds Ms. Wet's shoulders as she makes an attempt. Ms. Dangerous, already given up as a failure, flips over onto her back and strokes down to the middle of the pool. Ms. Wet stands up and watches Ms. Dangerous slip prettily through the water like Esther Williams.

"You just like the backstroke because you don't have to breathe!" accuses Instructor C.

Ms. Dangerous feigns water in the ears and ignores her. Ms. Wet tries to follow with an uncoordinated tangle of arms and legs. After two minutes, Instructor C declares the backstroke learned.

The lesson ends with Instructor C and Ms. Dangerous trying to convince Ms. Wet to jump in the deep end, or the shallow end, or even into a puddle. Ms. Dangerous leaps right into the deep end, whereafter Instructor C tells Ms. Wet that she is a much stronger swimmer than Ms. Dangerous, Ms. Dangerous is hopeless at the freestyle, and Ms. Wet should really be the one to hop in.

Instructor C tells Ms. Wet that she will have conquered her fear by next week, but Ms. Wet would like to note that she hasn't conquered it in the last 20-odd years and has no confidence that 7 more days will make any difference.




***

*Thanks to mms0131 for sharing your photo.

"I never practice; I always play."*

Ms. Dangerous prepares to dive into the Ohio River.

*

*

*

Just kidding!

This is where Ms. Dangerous and Ms. Wet really practice. If this picture were larger and clearer, which for obvious reasons it is not, you would see that Ms. Dangerous is treading precariously in the 5 to 6 foot area, while Ms. Wet is firmly planted in 4 feet of water.

Today Ms. Dangerous learned that what she suspected all along might actually be true: while the sun will almost definitely give her cancer, so might her sunblock! After reading this article at work and having a minor freak-out, she sent her loyal friend to the store to replace her cancer spray with zinc oxide. Her friend obediently purchased every recommended product at the neighborhood CVS. So if you're looking for sunblock that doesn't have risks for cancer, reproductive toxicity, immunotoxicity, neurotoxicity, endocrine disruption, persistence and bioaccumulation, organ system toxicity, or biochemical and cellular level changes on this side of Pittsburgh, you might want to try Walgreens.

As today's events might suggest, swimming out in the open, in the light of day, in public, poses a variety of challenges for our two heroines. While the most obvious difficulties depend on the weather, most of the others can be divided into two major categories: what's in the pool, and who's at the pool. Here are a couple of prime examples.

1. What's that in the poo-l?

On a balmy Sunday, Ms. Dangerous arrives at the public pool at 12:30, fully expecting Ms. Wet to show up a little after 1. Unfortunately, as she enters the gates she is approached by a teenage lifeguard who blushes and informs her that the pool is closed. Ms. Dangerous is confused. The lifeguard mumbles, gestures, and finally explains that someone broke in overnight and "left something" in the bottom of the pool. Several someones, in fact. "We've just finished fishing all of it out," he explains, "Now we're dumping chlorine in the water, but the pool is closed for the day."

Oh crap, thinks Ms. Dangerous, I don't have my cell phone.

Ms. Dangerous has no way to warn Ms. Wet about the closure, so she hops on her bike and rides to the other nearby pool, fully expecting Ms. Wet to show up later. Ms. Wet never arrives, so Ms. Dangerous assumes she just went home.

Two days later, they meet again in yoga class.

"Where were you?!" Ms. Wet exclaims, "I went to the pool but you weren't there!"

Ms. Dangerous stares at her, "Um, didn't they say anything to you?"

Ms. Wet looks confused, "What? Oh and I think there were ants or something at the pool. I got a really bad rash!"

(The rash is on her arm, folks.)

**

2. Who's that at the pool?

It might be helpful to know this about Ms. Wet and Ms. Dangerous: While Ms. Wet tends to attract Socially Awkward Music Geeks, Slightly Intoxicated Musicians, and Much Older Men, Ms. Dangerous attracts men who are stuck in the 1980s. Many look like members of Rod Stewart's band. His current band. But members who have been with him for a long time. So, if you're a man in your forties, with tight jeans or a Members Only jacket, and you look like you haven't slept for a week but somehow found the energy to use a can of hairspray on your shoulder-length hair, you will probably find Ms. Dangerous irresistible.

One such fellow happens to be the head lifeguard (we hope) at one of the pools they frequent. With his Ray-Bans, thick mustache, white hi-tops, and deep mineral oil tan, Ms. Dangerous realizes that she should have seen him coming. While all the other lifeguards are teenagers, this man is definitely not.

Yes, that's him. He's losing his pants.
"Great." Ms. Dangerous rolls her eyes.

Unknown to Ms. Dangerous, during one of her clumsy forays into the deep end, Lifeguard Creepy walks along the side of the pool following her every splash and kick. Later, he climbs up onto the lifeguard chair under which Ms. Wet has been practicing a few minutes. After a while, Ms. Dangerous comes to join Ms. Wet in the 5 foot water, under that same lifeguard chair. Suddenly, they hear a voice from above.

"Take some friendly advice." They look up into the afternoon sun.

"Ok?" says Ms. Wet.

"No not you. Her." He points to Ms. Dangerous.

"Um, ok?"

"I've been looking at your legs. You're using them too much. Use your arms."He pauses, expecting a response.

Ms. Dangerous replies, "I can't see you. All I hear is a voice from above." Apparently, that's enough for him.

"Try swimming with your legs together. I have lots of toys that you could play with." He pauses, "Unfortunately none of them are here."

To appease him, or maybe just to shut him up, Ms. Dangerous prepares to swim to the other side of the pool without using her legs.

"Wait! I'll go with you!" says Ms. Wet.

They both try to swim to the other side using only their arms, and both sink immediately.

Ms. Dangerous stops in the middle of the pool and tells Ms. Wet that she needs a break. A break as long as the lifeguard's shift.

***

*Wanda Landowska

Lesson 5.

Ms. Wet would like to emphasize that this is ONLY LESSON 5!

Even after a week of nightmares in which giant barges sink to the depths of the pool, never to surface again, Ms. Wet arrives at Lesson 5 determined to continue. Ms. Dangerous, on the other hand, arrives ready and eager to dive into the deep end, her bravado strengthened by her compatriot's anxiety.

Ms. Wet convinces Instructor C to compromise and start the diving lesson at 5.5 feet. (Yes, we know that is too shallow for diving, but Ms. Wet isn't going any deeper.) At the same time, Ms. Dangerous loses a bit of her courage, as she has detailed mental pictures of striking her head on the bottom of the pool.

Before they even enter the water, Instructor C starts the lesson with a dive.

Where is our warm up? thinks Ms. Wet.

Instructor C leaps off the side of the pool with perfection, diving arms-first into the water and torpedoing out under the lane dividers. "See how easy that is?" she asks cheerfully, "Now it's your turn!"

Ms. Wet bravely offers to go first. She takes two dives from a kneeling position, rolling into the pool arms first. Still, she struggles to keep her head down between her arms, instinctive self-preservation causing her to lift it at the last second. This leads to enormous pressure on her sinuses every time she hits the water. "It's burning behind my eyes!" she gasps.

Ms. Dangerous does ok for the first two dives, then suddenly loses stamina and begins belly flopping. "Oww," she moans.

"You know what I do sometimes?" asks Instructor C. "Sometimes with my four- or five-year-olds, I'll grab one of their feet so that they naturally go in head first!"

Ms. Dangerous's eyes widen at the terrifying mental picture. She sputters, "That's where I draw the --"

"Line!" glibly answers Instructor C, "Don't worry, I don't think we'll have to cross that line, will we?"

For a few moments Ms. Dangerous refuses to dive in again, then thinks What the hell.. and goes for it.

They keep at it for the first half of the lesson, Ms. Dangerous goading Ms. Wet with "one more dive," Ms. Wet's not-quite-drowned competitive spirit pushing her to match Ms. Dangerous dive for dive. Both ignore Instructor C as she rhapsodizes about combining diving with streamlining with freestyle, and Ms. Wet thanks her lucky stars that she can still stand up in the water.

Finally they move on to the second half of the lesson: streamlining from the wall, kicking off and staying under water as long as possible. Ms. Wet still can't force her butt under the water. Ms. Dangerous tries to explain to Ms. Wet that she figured out how to do it: bend over in the rag-doll pose from yoga class, then kick off. Instructor C, who has no idea how that sentence will end, stares at Ms. Dangerous as if she is speaking Martian.

They finish the lesson a little worse for wear, Ms. Wet with scraped elbows and knees, Ms. Dangerous with a bruised ego.

"I interrupt the velvety smoothness of my more or less literate syntax with a few sudden words of bar-room vernacular."*

In recounting the tale of our two would-be swimmers, we've neglected to mention an integral component of their lessons.

"Integral component?" questions Ms. Dangerous, "I'd call it more of a minor"
"Annoyance," interrupts Instructor C. "You'd call it a minor annoyance."

"Well, it's starting to"
"Grow. It's starting to grow," finishes Instructor C, nodding vigorously.

Ms. Dangerous smacks the surface of the water with her palm. "You don't always know how"
"Your sentences will end. Yeah, I don't always know how your sentences will end."

"Oh. Maybe you do," sighs Ms. Dangerous.
"Do," echoes Instructor C.


***

*Raymond Chandler

Lesson Four.

Why does everything have to be so difficult?

Ms. Wet and Ms. Dangerous pool their motivation, ignore their fatigue, and clamber over construction barriers to reach the campus pool.

And still, the doors are locked!

Ms. Wet doesn't allow Ms. Dangerous to turn around and go home; instead, they wait for Instructor C and campus police to pull up in an SUV and unlock the doors.

***

The lesson starts and again they attack the freestyle. From the beginning, both have problems. Ms. Wet feels she doesn't get anywhere when she is swimming, and her solution for coordinating breathing with strokes is just to forego the breathing part. She swims from 5 feet to the shallow end, but remains afraid that she won't be able to hold her breath for the length of the pool. No, she's not quite ready for the deep end yet.

Meanwhile, Ms. Dangerous discovers that her right side is dominant and the left just wants to glide along for the ride. She forces the left side to stroke, swinging the left arm like a club and beating at the water, as gracefully as always.

They take turns practicing, and when it's time for Instructor C to focus her attention on Ms. Wet, Ms. Dangerous entertains herself by doing submerged flips and spinning in circles.

After a few minutes of this exercise, Ms. Wet asks Instructor C about her latest problem: swimming under water. While she practices at the city pool (more on that later) with her daughter, the honest child repeatedly yells, "Mom, your butt is sticking out of the water!"

Instructor C persuades Ms. Wet to dive downward into the 5 ft water and to attempt to swim submerged. Ms. Wet tries, but halfway through her forward bend, uncertainty stops her every time and she kind of belly flops into the water. With that entry, there's no chance of breaking the surface.

"Ah," considers Instructor C, "You're swimming like a barge. How do you do that?"

Ms. Dangerous pauses mid-flip to ponder that very Pittsburgh-ian image. "I think you look more like a shark," she offers helpfully, "Imagine your cranium as a dorsal fin."

"I know what will help!" says Instructor C, "We need to learn to dive!"

"Ummmm..." mumbles Ms. Wet.

Ms. Dangerous does a flip and flashes a thumbs-up.

"Next week: the deep end!" proclaims Instructor C.

"Uhhh!!" mumbles Ms. Wet, looking stricken.

"YES!" applauds Ms. Dangerous.

Pictures.

We've been flooded with requests for photos documenting our heroines' journey.

Ms. Dangerous and Ms. Wet would like you to know that they're working on it.

Lesson Three.

Ms. Dangerous and Ms. Wet wade through oppressive humidity to the campus pool. The cool water feels good, but wooly dark clumps have settled on the bottom of the first two lanes. Ms. Dangerous looks up and notices that the ceiling is shrouded in gray fuzz. She figures that they'll soon be swimming in asbestos, and she decides to work really hard on not swallowing the water.

Both wear goggles and realize that being able to see where you're going helps as much in the water as it does on land. Our heroines' enthusiasm motivates their instructor, and she outlines a focused lesson.

They begin practicing kicking with the kickboards. Ms. Dangerous, true to her nature, paddles all the way to the deep end, feigning confidence and entreating Ms. Wet to join her. Ms. Wet pretends that she not to hear and does laps back and forth between the shallow end and 5 feet.

The lesson progresses to freestyle, and the swimmers focus on perfecting their strokes. They strive to breathe when their mouths are out of the water, the threat of asbestos providing ample motivation for coordinating their movements. They practice breathing to the left and the right, lifting their heads on every 3rd stroke. Ms. Dangerous and Ms. Wet splash around awkwardly, hoping that coordination is a skill acquired through practice. Their instructor claps and cheers, crowing and applauding their progress, much as she would to her toddler class.

Sadly, before they can master coordination, the lesson ends. Practice is in order before Lesson 4.

Ms. Wet and Ms. Dangerous Warm Up for Lesson Three.

Lesson Two.

Ms. Dangerous and Ms. Wet meet at the library and trudge to the pool. Cell phone in hand, Ms. Wet wishes she had cancelled. Unfortunately, her swimsuit does not have a pocket to hold the instructor’s contact information. Ms. Wet plans to learn to embroider A.S.A.P.

The locker room is negotiated and the two reluctant women report to the pool. As Ms. Wet passes the deep end, she panics and fears she will never learn to swim.

While the pool area is hot and humid. Appendage by appendage, our heroines slowly submerge into the icy water at the shallow end. Their legs go numb. The instructor makes a crude joke about the temperature, and Ms. Dangerous can’t help but think it refers to her swimsuit.

The lesson begins.

Once again treading eludes our heroines. Fast or slow, scissor kick or running man, they tread and they sink. The instructor admits she was confused by the treading instructions she found online, and she offers no further advice. She sees Ms. Wet and Ms. Dangerous exchange a look and encouragingly informs them that the swim team treads water while holding 15 lb weights above their heads.

Ms. Dangerous and Ms. Wet tackle the freestyle. Finally, something they do in the water takes on a natural rhythm. They bend elbows and circle arms, skimming fingers across the surface of the water. They twist with every reach, flutter kicking behind.

The hardest part is the breath. They struggle to turn heads to the side without gasping, keeping an ear in the water as a guide. Breathing disrupts their rhythm so much that the instructor remarks, “I can go back and forth the length of the pool and only breathe once!”

“Well good for you,” mutters Ms. Dangerous, “It probably helps that you’re shaped like a kayak.”

Mercifully, the half hour passes quickly and Ms. Wet and Ms. Dangerous find themselves back in the locker room struggling to return to their usual glamour. It’s worth the effort.

Slippery When Wet

Ms. Wet fears that she might be channeling Carol Burnett in Slippery When Wet, rather than Esther Williams in Dangerous When Wet.

Ms. Dangerous only admits to digging the swimwear (and Carol Burnett).

Lesson One, Part Two.

Lesson One, Part Two

Time: Late afternoon, a weekday
Place: College pool

At last, the pool. How will the first lesson go, you ask? Quickly, very quickly.

What can one say about swimming? The water encircles Ms. Wet and Ms. Dangerous with a motherly embrace. It sucks them under with sadistic glee, also reminding them of their mothers.

Task One: Blowing Bubbles Through The Nose.
Ms. Wet remembers her daughter remarking, "Mom, it makes your nose feel so clean!" Ms. Dangerous tries not to scan the water for boogers.

Task Two: Kicking.
Ms. Dangerous assumes that her thunder thighs will assist her in making a splash. She is surprised to feel exhausted after just a couple of minutes. "What good are you, then?" she screams at her cellulite. No response.

Task Three: Treading Water.
Ms. Wet and Ms. Dangerous find this task to be the most difficult. "How are we supposed to save ourselves on the open ocean if we're tired after two minutes?" asks Ms. Wet, as Ms. Dangerous flirts with drowning. "Oh," replies their teacher, "I think I'm teaching you the hard way! Let me look up the easy way for the next lesson." "Grrp!" gasps Ms. Dangerous.

After speeding through enough material for 5 lessons, the teacher is as out of breath as her students. “You guys are so smart!” she gasps, “You learn much faster than my toddler class!” She promises to look up the easiest way to tread water. The sensible Ms. Wet asks for homework and receives a list of tasks to practice. “Practice?” thinks Ms. Dangerous.

Thus charged, Ms. Wet and Ms. Dangerous again brave the locker room. While Ms. Wet wisely changes back into her work clothes, Ms. Dangerous plans to look beguilingly damp at the bus stop in a cover-up dress and sandals. Unfortunately, the cover-up is not designed to cover up a bullet bra, and damp spots appear in embarrassing places.

Fortunately, Ms. Wet takes pity and gives Ms. Dangerous a ride home. The cover-up issue has yet to be resolved.

Lesson One, Part One.

Time: Late afternoon, a weekday
Place: College pool and locker room, deserted

Our heroines make their way through winding hallways, following the smell of chlorine.

“This must be it!” They peer through windowed doors.
“Oooh no!” moans Ms. Wet, “Uh uh.”
“What?”
“It’s 12 feet deep!”
“Well, surely there’s a shallow end!”
“Can you see it?”
They both lean all the way left, peering through the windows, trying to see the other end of the pool.
Ms. Dangerous says, “Well, it has to be there!” but it sounds more like a question.

With manufactured confidence, they venture on to the locker room. Blue and red lockers line the perimeter. They are strung with swim team suits and graffitied with messages. The center of the room has a drain and little else. An adjoining room holds two shower stalls and two miniscule bathroom stalls.

“I’ll change in the bathroom!” says Ms. Dangerous, “Let me know when it’s safe to come out!”

Finally they give each other the go-ahead. They approve the slimming qualities of each other’s swimsuits and they venture forth wrapped in towels, eyes rapidly scanning the hallway for students…faculty...campus police…coworkers…maintenance people…anyone they know, and anyone they might like to know.

Ms. Dangerous accidentally drops her towel more than once. Fortunately, the place is deserted, and Ms. Wet is focusing on breathing and picturing the shallow end.

An Introduction

Time: Early afternoon, the start of summer vacation
Place: Reference desk, an academic library

Spotlight on two young and fashionable reference librarians on desk duty (looking slightly bored): Ms. Wet and Ms. Dangerous.

Ms. Dangerous scans the library for eye candy, but sadly all the good-looking graduate students are on vacation. Ms. Wet browses Craigslist.

"OOO!" gasps Ms. Wet.
"Beautiful?" asks Ms. Dangerous, scanning the library for overlooked sex appeal.
"No! Swim lessons!"
"I don't know how to swim!" exclaims Ms. Dangerous.
"I don't either!" cries Ms. Wet. "Oh my gosh! They're here on campus!"
"You're f*in' kidding me!" squeals Ms. Dangerous.

Some wily email negotiations later, Ms. Wet informs Ms. Dangerous that they can indeed share private swim lessons in the campus pool, at half the cost.

First step: Acquiring Swimwear.

Ms. Wet: In further proof of smart shopping, Ms. Wet purchased a one-piece at the end of last season, a classic black maillot with slimming details. She considers the bathing suit "respectable," and in her practical i-hate-shopping fashion, she figures it is good enough.

Ms. Dangerous: Ms. Dangerous decides to measure herself and purchase vintage swimwear off of ebay. In Ms. Dangerous's viewpoint, vintage swimwear has several advantages, including built-in girdles, full-bottom coverage, lower leg openings, and the ability to maximize upper-body attributes while minimizing lower-body cellulite. Plus, she can avoid the fat-lady skirted swimsuit. Possible downside: bullet bras.