See-Through Swimsuit

This one is just a little memory I have of life back in high school. Most people would say that I’m not exactly your typical personality. But I was a weird kid.

No doubt.

Sometimes, looking back on those days, I cringe a little, like everyone else. Other times, I will remember something, stop dead in my tracks, mentally accuse myself of making the whole thing up, and realize that it all really happened. Then I laugh. Proudly. This is one of those moments.

Growing up, we had an above-ground swimming pool in my backyard. This fact is kind of unusual for a number of reasons, but the most prominent one is that no one in my family liked swimming very much. The pool went up when I was much younger, so I might be largely to blame for it having been there. I really don’t remember. But by the time I was in high school, it was mostly uncared for and rarely used. It would make occasional, rapid swings from “pretty gross” to “sparkly clean” via a technique my dad pioneered involving dumping in backlogs of chlorine tablets all at once that should have been added gradually (over the past several weeks). This pretty much always happened immediately before those rare times when I actually went in there. Thus, I spent small chunks of my youth swimming in bleach. You’re free to interpret that part however you want.

This had a predictable effect on my swimwear. I had become the owner of a pair of bright lime green trunks when I was young enough to non-ironically think that was fine. A few years later (via gradual chemical reaction and sun exposure) I was the apathetic owner of a pair of whitish, sea foam green swimtrunks, which actually seemed pretty cool at the time. This transition took place entirely in my private backyard.

Having grown up in Illinois, high school mandated that I spend huge blocks of my time doing stupid things “for my benefit.” Sophomore year, a semester of swimming was one such requirement. This story is the only good thing that I got out of that investment. Really though, others were not so lucky. Half a year of swim class went by without me noticing anything unusual.

By the tail end of the semester, our instructor had breezed through the “rigorous” swimming curriculum without incident, and (as a thanks for us not drowning her along the way) basically cut us free to pursue our own interests. One such day, she cracked open the oddly-well-stocked supply room and provided snorkeling gear for all of us. She was going to teach us the proper way to snorkel (basically, how to dive, instead of just floating around.) That took about five minutes, and we had the rest of the hour to explore the magical depths of the pool.

I actually REALLY enjoyed this. It may sound sarcastic, but deep water, a really good pair of goggles, and I get along really well. I spent a good 15 minutes casually oscillating between the surface and the floor of the deep end, by myself. This eventually seemed slightly less cool, and I decided to use my goggles to see what everyone else was doing.

That was an odd moment. At several points in my life, I have done things that drew attention to myself. This was not one of those moments. Despite this fact, my underwater view filled with images of more than half of my classmates hovering idly in the water a fair distance away, all staring directly at me through goggled eyes.

Had the circumstances been different, I would have waited a beat and demanded, “What?” Yet at this moment, I was three feet underwater and clenching a snorkel in my teeth. Options were limited. As I stared back, several of the girls suddenly, awkwardly looked away. Hmmm. I looked down.

Negligibly blurred, a remarkably clear vision of my penis floated idly between my legs in the still water. Hmmmmmmm. I spent a few seconds pondering the reality of my situation.

“My swimsuit is completely see-through. How long has it been like that? Oh wow. I sort of knew this. Whenever I get out of the pool, I’ve been pulling it away before it can cling. But I thought it was just the cling outline that showed off penis. Wait. No, I knew it was more than that. But I guess I sort of assumed that since tugging made the problem go away, it was only like that for a second? I know it’s not see-through when it’s dry. But look at this. Wow, that is really amazing. I’m basically naked here.”

This gradual analysis passed during several seconds of staring at my own junk underwater. I looked back up at the crowd. Very little had changed.

We now come to the moment that defines this story. I suddenly realized that the majority of my high school gym class had, in small groups, spent the past fifteen minutes watching me swim around in the buff. The reactions of some of the girls made it clear that they had been discussing the situation amongst themselves. It was pretty obvious that I was the last person to catch on. And, just like that, I realized:

“This. Is. Awesome.”

I was absolutely delighted.

I’m actually not the type of person who delights in exhibitionism. In fact, I’m oddly modest, all considered. But there was a strange truth in the situation, and that truth was simply that nearly all of the girls (and several of the boys) in my large gym class had all concluded that quietly watching me fuck around naked was way the hell more fun than a free period in the swimming pool. It occurred to me that people would assume that I had been wearing a see-through swimsuit to gym all year on purpose. No one had complained.

It also occurred to me that the fact that no one had said ANYTHING was the most interesting point of all. These were high school kids. The impulse to tease is strong. And yet, teasing would have likely made the see-through swimsuit go away. No one had said anything. Even later that day, no one said anything.

Life was GOOD.