Post mammogram, PP heads out to the pool, relief following her clean bill of health spilling over into the chlorinated air of the YMCA. Surveys the scene.
3–4 swimmers per lane. And at the Y, this means trouble. Harried Lifeguard catches her as she steps onto the deck, brow furrowed through her tired smile. “Hi, what speed are you?”
PP glances at the lanes. No one’s goin at too brisk a clip. So she shrugs; gives the standard swimmer noncommittal answer, “Medium, I guess.”
“Cool,” HL answers, nodding officially. “He,” she points to a Confused African American Gent, “is a medium too, so both of you can circle swim here,” she points to a lane with 3 zigzagging women in it. “That’ll be a nice medium lane for you.”
PP thinks NOT as she glances at CAAG, who shrugs and tries for a grin, but PP can tell hell, he just wants to swim, too. They both glance over at the ‘slow’ lane with one Meandering White Guy with lots of back moles. PP shakes her head, “I don’t understand,” she points to MWG, alone in his own lane, “Why do we hafta swim circles here? Why does he get his own lane?”
CAAG chuckles in a serious way, “Evidently, he has some sort of Blood Condition. If we touch him, he’ll bleed and then they’ll hafta close the pool.”
“Ah, well, guess we better not get in HIS lane,” PP giggles as she remembers the Swimming Hemophiliac.
Yet, doesn’t it seem a bit risky, not to mention unfair, that the SH gets his own lane while the rest of the swimmers are relegated to circle swimming? Not that he shouldn’t get to swim, but does he hafta swim at swimmers rush hour? In fact, maybe swimming isn’t really a good idea for him at all. If bumping him will cause the entire pool to be closed down. Hell, it’s nice the Y is so accommodating to its Various Swimming Wounded, but giving SH his own lane everyday seems a bit much.
Couldn’t he take up some other sport? Say, trampoline?
No, maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. What if he jumped so high that he bumped into the ceiling or jumped so spastically that he fell off? All that blood would splatter all over the walls and they’d have to close the entire facility down.
PP giggles as she prepares to get ready for the dreaded circle swim. Slowly slowly picking out her kickboard, pull buoys. Maybe if she takes her time someone will get out. She’s noticed that no one swims for very long at the Y. Usually only 20 minutes or so…..and now!
SH is getting out and motioning for CAAG to take over. PP follows him, “I’m pretty slow,” CAAG grins.
“Oh, that’s ok,” PP shrugs, “We can just split the lane.”
He looks at her dubiously. She’s not sure why till she watches him get in and plow down the center of the lane causing the most ferocious washing machine splashing she’s seen in a long time.
Oh, well, she thinks, at least I don’t have breast cancer, and dives in beside him, zipping by as he continues to thunk mightily through the turquoise water, lit by the afternoon light filtering through the high slanted windows.
It’s almost like Kailua Beach, PP thinks but then opens her eyes to the intense chlorine.
Well, there’s a lot more chlorine than Kailua Beach, she giggles as she turns around at the wall and heads off to continue her workout.
Afterwards, soaking in the Hot Tub, exhausted from her swim, which actually turned out fine since all the 20 minute swimmers got out, leaving PP with, miraculously, her own lane, she sinks tiredly into the soothing warmth as Topless Chinese Woman with her faded blue flower suit rolled over her bottom sits languidly on the side of the tub, staring into space. PP tries to make eye contact, but no go. Sometimes she feels like she’s back in China with all the beautiful, silent Chinese women spacing out in the locker room. Another one gets in, this one slimmer, her breasts like perfect white cupcakes perched on her chest. Sinks into the tub and closes her eyes. PP watches as TCW shifts around on the deck, her long, brown nipples pert and unashamed.
Breasts. So many of them. PP loves the women’s locker room at the Y. It’s so full of breasts. But then, she thinks about her own. And how worried she’d been an hour ago during the mammogram. How if she got breast cancer this would just be the worst. Much worse than if the melanoma had taken hold. It’s hard to explain since the melanoma is frankly much more likely to be deadly. Something about losing a breast or breasts. Well, it must be devastating. PP thinks of O’s friend, the Beautiful Redhead, who’s just had a mastectomy. How horrible this must be. She had such Beautiful Breasts.
But yet, O had said the prognosis was good. That they’d gotten all the Cancer. That the BR would probably be fine……
PP sighs as she glances down at her pink suit, her breasts still tightly bound within its confines. Why doesn’t she take off her top like all the Chinese women?
Was PP really that shy?
Especially since she should be celebrating her Breasts after her successful Mammogram?
Hell, why not?
PP hesitates as another stunning woman gets into the tub. Some Asian Mix with a large tattoo of a rooster on the small of her back. Wait. Could that be right? Could she really have a rooster tattooed on her back?
Hell, maybe. She could have been born in the year of the Rooster and so she wanted to what?
Remind her back of it? Let all the women at the Y know?
Somehow, this seemed too weird as PP watches her small soft breasts sink into the tub next to her.
It was all So Sexy Safe in the Y Hot Tub.
PP started to slip her top off but then…..
Shrugging, she climbed out of the tub. Maybe next time she’ll go topless.
It took awhile in Greece too!
Grinning, PP headed into the shower, nodding at a statuesque African American Princess with Enormous Gold hoop earrings and majestic breasts to match.
Yup, maybe next time she’ll bare her breasts, till then, PP sighed a happy smile as she headed into the shower to her favorite stall, #26, turned on the hot water, closed the dark green curtain, and took her top off.