The Beached Whale Syndrome

The Beached Whale Syndrome

Don't laugh. It's an actual syndrome, people just don't know about it. I'm thinking of organizing an awareness walk for it but then that seems somehow oxymoronic and even cruel. So instead, I decided just to take some time out to explain it. At least what it means for me.
Symptom 1: Paralyzing fear of Bathing Suits
I put girls generally in 3 categories when it comes to swimsuit season.
1) Girls that know they look good in string bikinis but insist on complaining about their "problem" areas while they strut around the beach or pool causing our men to suffer from whiplash and dehydration.
2) Girls that only think they look good in that string bikini but in actuality make you turn to your friend in abject horror and say "don't look, but OMG what was she thinking!" all the while consoling yourself with the thought that you don't look THAT bad while you reach for another potato chip feeling relieved.
3) Girls that feel it necessary to hibernate in the summer or only reveal their swimsuit clad bodies to family (because they have to love you, and tell you that you look thin…right?) or the third option which is to cover themselves head to toe and claim they are making a stand against skin cancer and tanning.
Personally, my paralyzing fear of swimsuits keeps me from even shopping for one. I proudly admit that I wear the same swimsuit I wore when I was pregnant with Ethan. Okay maybe not proudly, but there it is. I am not above humiliating myself for the greater good. Can I get a shout out for "mood lighting"? I mean if fancy department stores want us to spend a small fortune on a few scraps of fabric, then give us decent lighting, and some skinny fun house mirrors wouldn't be bad either along with a glass of wine per 10lbs of extra baggage! Then there is the fact that there are really only 3 types of swimsuits: 1) bikinis for the skinny girl (see above), 2) bathing suits that carry the claim that they show off the curvy woman's figure to full advantage (their idea of a "curvy" woman…a size 8) and 3) swimsuits for the fat and old. So not only do I get to embarrass myself in public by wearing a curtain disguised as a swimsuit but I run the danger of seeing it on the sweet old grandma who brought her grandkids to the pool. Good times!
Symptom 2: beaching a whale
You wanna be fun. You wanna be the life of the party and hang with your kids. There is only one teensy problem, which brings me to symptom 2 which is better explained by example than definition. We spent Memorial Weekend with my parents, and a good time was had by all. You know it was a good time if you come home exhausted, sunburned and unable to walk because of muscle soreness and fatigue…right? Anyway, after I squeeze myself into my pregnancy swimsuit wondering if there is another person on the planet as white as me, we head out to the lake, where I hope to work on my tan proving the theory that "fat looks better tan". I slather on the sunscreen wondering why they don't have a cellulite blocker that works as well as sunscreen, and then we are off! The wind is rushing through my hair, I am relaxed, and the lake is beautiful the sun is…..MISSING!?!?!?!?! What the…? It's cloudy? Deep breaths. Deep calming breaths. Okay, no problem, the sun will come out eventually. Oh look! See, already a tiny little ray playing peek-a-boo with me. Yay! We tool around the lake a bit; the girls start tubing (is it wrong to take extreme enjoyment in watching your children get jerked around on an inner tube before flying off in a weirdly twisted way and landing on the lake with a hard smack?). I can sense they are getting bored, so apparently it's time for super-mommy to throw herself in the mix. We stop to swim for a bit. I clumsily make my way over the side of the boat, and dip a toe in. OMG its freaking cold! Did I mention I like my lake water nicely tepid yet refreshing? Another tiny setback, but I can get past it. I'd do anything for the kids (because apparently bringing them into this world isn't enough anymore!). Whoever said "it's not bad once you get used to it", lies. Swimming commences. After about 2 minutes in the water (and I'm spotting myself a full 60 seconds), I realize how out of shape I am. My arms and legs are already tiring trying to tread water, so I have dad throw me a couple of noodles. The noodles are great, but they give you a false sense of security. Yes, I am not having to tread water, I can float gently around enjoying the peacefulness of the lake and listen to my kids laughing until I look up and notice that I've floated a good distance from the freaking boat! Now I have to swim back. Oh grief.
Okay time for tubing! A way to abuse my kids and make it look like fun! Woo hoo!!! Is there anything better! I so rocked that tube. Okay, so what if my competition was the 14 and under crowd. So what if the heaviest girl topped out at 85lbs soaking wet and my left thigh could have taken her out. It still counts! In defense of myself, I had to stay on. The first time I fell off the tube, I discovered something very horrifying about myself and systematic of "the syndrome", which incidentally is how it got its name. If a whale washes up on shore, its considerable girth and lack of traction make it impossible to maneuver back into the water without assistance. Well, if you saw me in the water trying to get back on that tube and if you've watched the discovery channel and watched a team of experts try to pull the whale back into the water, then you know exactly the dilemma I faced.
What do you do if your upper body strength isn't enough to haul the considerable girth of your lower half up out of the water and onto the tube? Naturally, you have your daughter show you how it's done, right? WRONG! You know how when you have kids, they talk about the curse? The curse of having a child give you 10x the grief you gave your own parents. Well, that's not my curse. My curse is being blessed with kids who fall under category 1 under symptom 1. My oldest daughter being the sweet little giver that she is took it upon herself to show me HOW to get on the tube. Like the HOW was the freaking problem! I know HOW to get on the tube, it's the DOING part I'm struggling with, but thank you for your help precious L I lay there half on the tube half off, panting and sweating (yes sweating in the 45 degree water), my arms are shaking and I'm thinking there really isn't a worse humiliation on the planet. Dad has to pull me in so I can hoist myself on the boat and then crawl from the back of the boat onto the tube. Except now I can't get up the ladder! OMG! I should just call it a day and go home. The ladder won't lower to the last rung, so I'm trying to hoist my leg to the second rung so I can pull myself out of the water. The problem is the life vest. It is pushing all my "extra love" to the top and bottom half of me, so while I have wonderful cleavage, I also am carrying my butt in the front of me which keeps my leg from being able to raise itself up high enough to reach the second rung. Good news!!!! The sun is now out. I sort of feel like it's rays are creating a spotlight around my embarrassment, but I'm probably just a tad paranoid. I somehow manage to tube with all 3 of my girls, and we had a blast. Of course, as we head back to shore, my arms and legs are like jelly and I discover that fat is still fat, tan or not. L
There are more symptoms, but we are currently out of resources at this time to conduct further research. You'll just have to stay tuned. No, I'm not asking for monetary donations, just your time. Sally Struthers just flashed across my mind. I can see her asking for our help to feed the hungry children for just pennies a day and I always wonder if she eats the pennies? Maybe another syndrome….? Who knows. If you see me at a pool or lake near you, don't point and laugh just wave and smile and think to yourself, what a great mom to play with her kids like that!