As if swimsuit season could be any more awkward.
Last summer, I decided to spend a free day with my son and my parents at the pool.
Without hesitation, my son jumped in. I slowly climbed in, adjusting to the cool temperature of the outdoor pool. My boy swam around me and then suddenly popped up with a confused look on his face. “What is that fuzz?” he whispered with a disgusted look.
“What are you talking about?”
“There is brown fuzz down there,” he pointed underwater, “ . . . by your suit . . . by your legs!” He sounded worried; it was as if he was trying to tell me that my insides had found a hole and they were trying to get out.
Then it hit me. OMG!!
My face turned red and I tried to avoid his eyes. “Don’t worry about me! Just go swim!” Instead, my son went underwater and circled around me like a shark hunting for dinner.
Again, my son came up out of the water and this time I could tell by his smirk, that he knew that fuzz was connected to me and it should not be making an appearance! When he spoke, he giggled and spoke louder. “Why do you have long brown hairs there?” Frantically, I turned and crossed my legs. If he could see IT, what other child might see my forest and swim away in fear?
“Go swim!” I kept repeating. The more I tried to escape, the more he realized that he was on to something—something that shouldn’t be showing.
“What’s up?” My mother asked as she swam closer to us. Without even taking a breath I heard, “Mama has long brown hairs coming out of her suit down there! There are probably twenty of them!”
Twenty!? How could that be?!
The expression on my mother’s face was classic. She knew that if she laughed, there was no way that my little comedian would ever let it go! Unfortunately, her shocked face was all he needed.
He kept repeating his descriptions each time a little louder. Finally, I had enough!
“See those girls over there? They will have hair there! Those women have it! Those lifeguards have it!” I continued looking for more women to “out” as “hair-havers.”
At this point, I didn’t go into the fact that most women don’t let “that” grow into what might resemble a small Yorkie, but I had already told him enough and would keep that conversation for a later date.
Right then, I wasn’t thinking about this from a great parenting moment, I was thinking about this from a let-me-swim-for-just-a-few-minutes-before-I-have-to-get-myself-and-my-animal-out-of-this-pool moment.
After more of his ridicule, I announced that it was time to go. I waited until most swimmers were on the opposite side of the pool and then I pulled myself and my beast out of the pool and ran, literally ran, for my towel as quickly as possible.
My son noticed my unusual approach and said in a normal talking voice, “Are you worried that others will see all that brownness?”
I’m not going to lie—it was an embarrassing afternoon. My son learned a bit more about growing up and I was reminded about the importance of routine grooming.