Rx: Ironman

Um, Eww

So I don't normally get grossed out. I am a healthcare professional, and as such, my lunches usually consist of discussing topics involving parasites, bodily fluids, or worse. I see and smell things on a daily basis that would leave many people scarred for life. So when I head to the local Y to swim, not much grosses me out there, either. Now I'm not talking about the sights in the locker room. However unpleasant, the naked elderly ladies who just finished their water aerobics class are nothing I haven't seen before. The slimey floor under my feet often prompts me to wear my sandles in the shower, but I can deal with that. The pool monkeys (those gigantic clumps of hair that lurk at the bottom of the pool and follow you till they wrap themselves around your fingers)... well the pool monkeys aren't my friends, but I suppose they're just a part of swimming pools. The other day, however, when I thought I saw a small turd float into my lane, well, that was my tipping point.

I couldn't tell exactly what it was at first. It was small (about the size of a marble) and sort of round. It was staying put for the most part. I tried to ignore it. I told myself that it must be something else. My goggles are getting pretty old and scratched, so I can't see the best. I swam another lap. It was still there, sitting at the bottom. A huge groupe of little kids in the lane next to me got and out and left. I knew I wouldn't be able to finish my workout wondering what the heck it was, so I called the lifeguard's name. She handed me a small net and I scooped it out. I still couldn't tell what it was at first - a rock maybe? I prayed that it wasn't a turd. I handed the net to her. She made the final diagnosis - a bandaid, rolled up really funny. Whew! False alarm! Bandaids do not gross me out. There's lots of them in the bottom of our pool, especially during the summer. I finished my swim and headed home.