Women Are So Vain

“Swim for me…..” Super Swimmer Woman sighs, longingly, “I haven’t been able to swim for three weeks.”

Trying to get her hair into her cap, PP grins down the row of lockers toward her, shaking her head in non-swimming commiseration. She wonders why SSW hasn’t been able to swim for three weeks, but doesn’t ask. She’s in such a hurry to get into the pool before Slacker Lifeguard blows the whistle.

“I can’t wear goggles,” SSW clarifies her reason for non-swimming without PP even having to ask.

Again, PP doesn’t ask why. She needs to swim and she needs to swim now. She’ll find out the story later. In Utopia.

This much she’s sure of.

And it’s true. As DL and she stumble, heaterized, into the dry dark cave after a blissful swim and productive weight training, in comes SSW, to towel off. PP can see now that there’s a HUGE bruise under her left eye. This is why she can’t wear goggles. Obviously.

But what happened?

They were about to find out as DL asks her about the bruise.

SSW shakes her head. “Cats.”

Of course. Everything wrong in the world is cats’ fault as far as PP is concerned right now. She is so completely at the end of her rope about her stupid cat, Mr. Pee, who’s been spraying all over her apt. for weeks now.

It’s stress. Or change. Or whim.
Whatever. It's extremely frustrating and anxiety producing!

He won’t use the cat door.
He won’t take the Salmon flavored kitty Prozac.
He won’t cooperate.

He’s a Cat.

And so when SSW blames her black eye on a cat, PP nods.
Of course.

“I slid in a pile of cat shit. That’s how this happened.”

DL and PP make suitable ‘oh no’ sounds as the large prone 3 bulks of basking brown women shift in uncomfortable silence. Do we really need to hear about cat shit while we're trying to relax in the sauna? their collective bodies seem to scream.




“Damn,” PP mutters. “Bad kitty!”

”Well, he’s a 15 year old cat. What're ya gonna do? But it was so stupid. I got up to go to the bathroom. It was 2 in the morning and I didn’t turn on the light. I can’t go back to sleep if I turn on the light.

“Me too," PP agrees. "Actually they say that it’s scientifically proven that turning on the light in the middle of the night makes it hard to go back to sleep.”

“Well, it’s true for me. But anyway, I didn’t turn on the light so it was Dark. And I was wearing a long flannel night gown cause it was cold. And Deana puts the litter boxes in the tub, cause that’s where she puts them. And obviously the Cat missed the litter box and whoops! There I go. Down. Landed smack on my face.”

”OH No!” PP and DL both cry out.
“Yeah. I wish it’d been my ass.”
“You can really hurt yourself there too,” PP offers. “You could land on your tail bone and cause all sorts of problems and….”






“I know I know. But I landed here on my face and had to have stitches in my nose and then the plastic surgeon who looked at it later said it was a horrible job the doc had done so he had to cut my nose open again and re-stitch it. Women are so vain. I was wearing dark glasses to hide. It all reminded me of my Chemo Days when I wore big dark glasses and a big floppy hat and put on bright red lipstick…….”





Her voice trailed off as DL and PP sat rapt. Damn. Kitty Litter and Cat Shit can be the cause of so much physical and emotional pain.

PP knows this. Hell, her Mr. P cat and his litter box issues are driving her to seek Prozac herself.

But this was nothing compared to Chemo.

Or not being able to swim for 3 weeks.

This, of course, seemed the very worst of the situation to PP, as all her readers know. Swimming is the answer to soothe all ailments and anxieties, large and small. Without it, well, you may as well just go into hiding.

Just watch out for the cat shit.
And the cat pee.
And the dark glasses.
And the red lipstick.
And whatever else gets in the way of swimming.

Though PP thinks that even if she couldn't wear goggles, she'd still find a way to get in the pool.

At least in the water, it's a Cat Free Zone for a little while!