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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Comedy / Humor
- Published: 07/25/2014
The Last Swim
Born 1956, M, from Adelaide, AustraliaNothing like facing reality. Having a relaxing, if lazy Saturday morning in the Sabah Hotel contemplating life as one does when in the middle of a mid life crisis, I decided it was time to try out the hotel’s swimming pool.
Not to swim mind you, just a quick slash and paddle. Never really having learned to swim, I can with a sort of toad-like breast stroke/ splash for all of 10 metres and if I’m feeling particularly energetic a robotic / cadaver back stroke. No potential olympian here, but a dreamer of greater things.
Anyway, I rustled through my backpack to find my well-worn-white-activity shorts and my never-been-to-the beach, beach towel. Taking a quick look in the mirror ( it’s always quick these days ) I perused my once manly figure and after missing a beat or two, darted out of the room towards the lift.
The pool was fortunately devoid of swimmers and apart from a few sun baking ( must be from Europe ) we had the place to ourselves.
Feeling more comfortable with this fact, I ordered a beer and a mineral water for my dearly beloved. I know before you say it, “You mustn’t drink and swim.” True, but as I explained, I shimmy rather silly than swim out on a limb. ( sorry, I couldn’t help myself )
A beer and the tropical sun builds a mountain of confidence. It was time to take the plunge.
Off with the T shirt, a final adjustment to the leisure shorts and a quick stroll to the pool ladder. Just before committing, I looked up and to my utter astonishment, the pool was now full of 20 somethings looking trim, lean and mean.
The men were built like Greek Gods and the women came straight from the garden of Eden. Not an ounce of fat to be seen.
As if to react to this sight, my sea of fat decided to become mobile. Waves of cellulose, starting from the navel, travelled south looking for landfall only to fold up and over my shorts looking much like a melting toy Humphrey B Bear placed too close to the heater. ( You would have to be Australian from the mid 60s to understand that one. )
I slinked down the steps and covered the erupting jelly as fast as I could.
Now dear reader as i said before, I’m a dip-and-leave sort of swimmer, but I had to endure 1 hour of soaking until the last of the super beings left the pool.
And before I finish this little ditty I wish to leave you with this image. Remember the old white faithful leisure shorts of mine? Well, just think of wet and transparent! Not a pretty sight.
The Last Swim(Alister Thorpe)
Nothing like facing reality. Having a relaxing, if lazy Saturday morning in the Sabah Hotel contemplating life as one does when in the middle of a mid life crisis, I decided it was time to try out the hotel’s swimming pool.
Not to swim mind you, just a quick slash and paddle. Never really having learned to swim, I can with a sort of toad-like breast stroke/ splash for all of 10 metres and if I’m feeling particularly energetic a robotic / cadaver back stroke. No potential olympian here, but a dreamer of greater things.
Anyway, I rustled through my backpack to find my well-worn-white-activity shorts and my never-been-to-the beach, beach towel. Taking a quick look in the mirror ( it’s always quick these days ) I perused my once manly figure and after missing a beat or two, darted out of the room towards the lift.
The pool was fortunately devoid of swimmers and apart from a few sun baking ( must be from Europe ) we had the place to ourselves.
Feeling more comfortable with this fact, I ordered a beer and a mineral water for my dearly beloved. I know before you say it, “You mustn’t drink and swim.” True, but as I explained, I shimmy rather silly than swim out on a limb. ( sorry, I couldn’t help myself )
A beer and the tropical sun builds a mountain of confidence. It was time to take the plunge.
Off with the T shirt, a final adjustment to the leisure shorts and a quick stroll to the pool ladder. Just before committing, I looked up and to my utter astonishment, the pool was now full of 20 somethings looking trim, lean and mean.
The men were built like Greek Gods and the women came straight from the garden of Eden. Not an ounce of fat to be seen.
As if to react to this sight, my sea of fat decided to become mobile. Waves of cellulose, starting from the navel, travelled south looking for landfall only to fold up and over my shorts looking much like a melting toy Humphrey B Bear placed too close to the heater. ( You would have to be Australian from the mid 60s to understand that one. )
I slinked down the steps and covered the erupting jelly as fast as I could.
Now dear reader as i said before, I’m a dip-and-leave sort of swimmer, but I had to endure 1 hour of soaking until the last of the super beings left the pool.
And before I finish this little ditty I wish to leave you with this image. Remember the old white faithful leisure shorts of mine? Well, just think of wet and transparent! Not a pretty sight.
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