Why Did I Agree to This?

When I was a kid, summer meant 2 things only; 3 months out of school and swimming nearly every day. Fast forward to now, and I recently realized that I don't really know how to swim. All that time thinking I was some kind of fish as a child, and here I am nearly 30 years old, and I can't swim. I mean, I can hold my own in the deep end and all that, but I never learned how to properly swim. It's never even occurred to me until I put my own kids in swimming classes. I wondered if it was too late to unlearn what I know and actually learn how to swim. I mentioned to Ryan while I was pregnant that I had been entertaining the idea of enrolling in a basic swim class for adults. A few weeks later he fell out of the health nut tree, hitting every proverbial branch on the way down, and he decided he also wanted to learn how to swim (since he was riding and running and doing yoga and drinking soy milk and all that jazz). He tried to sign up for a swimming class, but it was full.
Too bad, I told him. We could have done it together. Next time around I will have just had a baby and probably won't want to do it then.
Sign up time for classes rolled around again at the fitness center, and Ryan rushed to get into his swimming and spinning classes. I decided to keep the kids out of classes this session because I felt like I deserved a break from it all. Just some time to get used to having 3 kids before I break my neck trying to get them all to the gym on time for classes several times a week. Then Ryan decided to push me. This conversation took place Saturday afternoon:

R: Hey, you know you recover really fast from having babies. Why don't you just go ahead and sign up for that swimming class? It'd be fun to do it together.
J: Oh, well, those classes are all probably full by now. Plus, I don't know about leaving the baby yet.
R: Just go up there and check. It'll be fun.
J: Fine. I'll leave in a minute.

A couple hours later. . . .

R: Are you going to go? I thought you were leaving a few hours ago.
J: Um, yeah, just let me finish this load of laundry, feed the baby, and start dinner.
R: You just fed the baby, dinner's already started, and I can do the laundry.
J: Why don't I just wait until next time?
R: Why? You said you wanted to do this, and you always complain we don't do anything together.
J: Fine. I'll just call them and check on the stupid class.

I call the gym. The class is available. There are 2 spots left. A short telephone conversation later, I hang up the phone.

R: Well?
J: Oh, there are two spots left in the Tuesday evening class, but your class is full.
R: Oh, that's fine. I can watch the baby for you while you're in class.
J: Okay, but that means we won't be doing it together.

Now I'm really not excited about this anymore. Being in a bathing suit in front of people is bad, but having my husband with me made it somewhat better. In my head I could say to myself things like, "I can't look that bad. Someone loves me, and he's right here as proof."

R: Yeah, but at least we'll be starting at the same time and you won't be one class behind me.

Oh, yes, that's right. This is the beginner class. There are more to come. . . .

J: Well, she said I had to actually come in because they can't take my payment over the phone, but I have a few days. I'll just do it Monday.
R: No. Go now. These classes always fill up.
J: Nah. If it's not full now, it'll be fine on Monday.
R: Jess, just go and get back already before the baby wakes up.
J: Fine. You're really pushy sometimes.

So, today is Tuesday. My class starts today at 6:45. I assume it would be bad form to show up in jeans, a sweater and tennis shoes. Right now it's 2:05. That means I have exactly 4 hours and 40 minutes to lose half my body weight, shave my legs, get a mani/pedi, and figure out how to have cute pool hair. I'm not going to fuss over getting waterproof mascara for the first week. That may just be overkill afterall.

Seriously, I've totally changed my mind. I don't even know if these boobs will fit in my swimsuit. And if they fall out, I'm NOT going back. Ryan went and bought me my own fancy goggles yesterday. That set off a wave of panic in me.

Today the gym called. Ryan's Saturday class is cancelled for this week. It'll start next week. No fair. I called him at work.

J: The gym called. Your swim class is cancelled for this week. We can just trade, though, and you can have my Tuesday spot. I don't mind missing a week.
R: No, it's fine.
J: Well, maybe I'm having second thoughts anyway. I totally don't sink, and there is no real reason I need to have a proper stroke. I'm not going.
R: WHAT?
J: Yeah, that's right. I changed my mind.
R: Jess. . . .
J: Come on, Ryan. I'm fat, and it's gross, and I'm not doing it.
R: You're ridiculous.
J: Fine. I'll call you later to let you know where to meet me.

I can't figure out why I'm really freaking out about this so much (obvious body image issues aside), but I do know this: I hope the baby pukes on him while I'm in the pool. Or poops. Or pees. Or all of those things.