160. I’m a New Yorker. If I don’t start and end my day risking life and limb, I ain’t living.

I went to my pool yesterday and it was closed for repairs.

The old me would have said “This seems like a sign to go home and watch tv” but no that isn’t what I did.

Lew Soloff has been trying to tell me that I should be going to a club where the patrons don’t carry a shiv. He says it’s not only for exercise but for socializing.

Although the thought of trying to lure a man while wearing my bathing suit, a bathing cap and nose plugs isn’t ideal, in fact the thought of any man in my life gives me the dry heaves, I went into a fancy sports club a block away from my house to see what was up.

Now anyone who is reading this has probably been following my post and knows what a shallow person I am so realize that my commitment to fitness must be great because I’m dressed for the other pool, my bathing suit sticking out from under my shirt, no make up and more important NO JEWELRY to flash so they know that I’m important.

Anyway I go in and ask about rates etc. It isn’t a million dollars and I could see loads of hard bodies exercising on top of the line machines.

The manager offers me a 3 day pass and says “Wait until you see our pool”

I go into the women’s dressing room and take out my lock. Since I’m a rebel it’s a combination lock. If you recall in the other gym they strongly suggest that seniors use a key lock because they keep forgetting their combo.

I go into the pool room. It’s all sunny and has a glass ceiling. The pool itself is smaller than the other pool but the room is much nicer.

One half of the pool was being used to teach 3 under 5 girls to swim. They were all crying.

The other half consisted of 2 narrow lanes.

One lane had a woman with a personal trainer  holding on to the side of the pool and kicking with floaties on her upper arms.

The other lane had a man with a combover and a woman in full make up with sun glasses, earrings and a hat walking back and forth past each other  very slowly. Each of them carried a noodle.

The guy teaching the girls looked over and told me that the lanes would be available in 5 minutes but there were 2 people ahead of me so I’d have to wait 1/2 hour but then I could have 30 minutes to complete my laps.

When combover heard that he had to give up his regime in 5 minutes he went apeshit, screaming at the life guard who immediately gave him an additional 10 minutes while admonishing him to speak to him in  a more respectful tone. (in my other pool the life guard slaps you silly if you even look like you might interrupt his nap)

Throughout this the life guard paused periodically to whisper in the ear of one or the other little girls in what was clearly some kind of threat because each time the kid screamed bloody murder. Their nannies sat in lounge chairs barely looking at them.

I did my laps and changed back into my clothes.

When I got in the elevator combover got in with me. He said he noticed me in the pool and bragged that he had been coming there for years. He spoke with a jewish accent and immediately started complaining about having to share his lane with the other woman. Although it seemed to me that the only negative to sharing for him was that occasionally their noodles would get tangled up, I commiserated. We jews have to stick together.

“I thought she was your wife”

“No,” he said “I’m single”

I see what you mean, Lew. It’s a regular Match.com.

159. One person’s nakedness is another person’s ick

I went swimming again today.

I’ve never hung out in any kind of gym or place where women change other than when I was a little girl at camp or when I went with my mother to Loehman’s.

Everyone changed in a big room there and my mother had to keep tapping me to stop looking at the women with the long tits. They all had long tits in those days.

Well after my swim I went back to the dressing room.On my way I was trying to figure out how to get my wet bathing suit off and my clothes on without anyone seeing my hooch.

I walked in and there were people in various stages of undress most of them trying their best to keep covered .

That is for one exception. A woman, I would say in her late 50’s early 60’s was standing in the middle of the room stark naked drying every inch of her body inside and out. I have never in my life seen someone putting that much effort into getting every drop of water off themselves.

I could walk through a desert for a week and I wouldn’t be that dry.

Then she opened her locker and started dressing.

She put on 2 shirts before even taking her underpants out of the locker. I was forced to stare at her tushie and her wee wee while she buttoned 2 shirts.

Well, forced is a bit strong but for some reason my eyes kept darting back at her.

As I was walking home with my clothes sticking to my still wet body I was wondering what gives someone that much confidence.

158. I wonder if you can get cooties in a public pool

I found a pool in my neighborhood for $25 a year.

The new me has decided to do laps at least twice a week.

Now I could probably go to the fancy gym close to my apartment that doesn’t have rules like:

You must have a strong lock for your locker because there have been break ins. And showering before entering the pool is mandatory plus you have to wear a hat to swim and they suggest that ‘seniors’ use a  key lock because they keep forgetting their combinations but a penny saved …..

I went for my first swim yesterday. I did 25 laps.

The dressing room wasn’t too bad except there was one woman showering there who was clearly homeless. She had a change of clothes and what appeared to be a bookcase in her shopping cart.

She didn’t offend me as much as the young girls in their black lace thongs. I got dressed behind a curtain unlike those sluts. If they want to see my lime green cotton underpants they can whistle.

Since the pool is only about 5 blocks from my house I’m thinking I can avoid the whole dressing room thing by wearing my skirt bathing suit, my bathing cap, flippers and a towel around my neck to walk over there.

It’s the walking home all wet that might be a problem but if I hide a tenner in my flipper I can take a cab home.

Problem solved.

157. Getting old isn’t just that you look shitty, you also get nuts.

By the way, my brain is fucked up too.

A few weeks after I got dumped I set up a trip with my sister to Portugal and Spain.

Whenever I get sad Marcia and talk about our trip. How happy we’re going to be, what we’ll eat (woodpecker), just everything because we love to be together so much.

Yesterday I mentioned to Marcia that I didn’t think we’d be back at the end of May when my niece, Alexandra comes to visit.

“We’re going in April, not May. If I get to the airport and you aren’t there you’ll be in big trouble”

If she could have jumped through the phone and throttled me she would have.

I’ve been telling everyone that I’m leaving in May.

This poses a few problems not the least of which is that I probably won’t be able to drop those 20 lbs I had counted on losing before the trip. Although the scone I ate the other day probably put a wrench in that already.

Why is it that I can remember every Monkee song but not why I walked into the kitchen? It was probably to get a scone.