Bad Moods and Mean Girls

Hey, A,

I'm kind of in a funk today--somewhere between being sad and pissed off. I can't quite put my finger on it. I hate that. I hate more that I am 43 years old and still don't know myself well enough to say unequivocally that I am weepy because I am PMSing. Or because I've been thinking a lot about my relationship with W and wonder if it's time to call it quits. Or thinking about my relationship on the tail end of a bad period is inviting an emotional mishap...Maybe I do know myself well enough; I just can't figure out the exact proportions, which is why I am infinitely better at cooking than baking.

So I go to the pool at my complex, a heaven send for my lazy summer self, to get out of my own way and escape in my newest novel, and there two women there whom I've seen on weekends this summer, who set up their chairs right on the edge of the pool so their toes can dangle in the water, but thereby render a good chunk of the pool edge unusable for the rest of us. You can't swim from one side of the pool to the other without being greeted by their feet or beach towels or chairs. I don't remember them from last year so they must be newcomers, without much regard for the way things work, the culture of the pool. Not once last year did anyone set up a chair within 2 feet of the edge. It's just not done. Anyway, that's actually an aside, not the story itself. (Some things never change.) Last week when they were camped on the edge (mid pool), when I stepped out of the shallow end and picked up my towel, where I had left it nearby, I looked over at them, and they were both agog. Like they've never seen an overweight woman at a swimming pool before. I don't think they realized at first that through my dark sunglasses I saw them staring, but eventually they did, and it was too late for them simply to look away, I had been transfixed by their stares too long. It made me feel bad. And I was angry. What poor manners. What childish behavior. Grow the f**k up.

I guess I forgot about it until this morning when I went out and one of the two was already camped out on the edge. The other joined shortly after. I had my back toward them--positioned across the pool, my chair at least three feet from the edge, facing the sun, my back toward the pool so as to offer swimmers privacy--so forgetting they were there was easy. Until I got up to go to the bathroom and had to walk near them, where they were wading in the shallow end. (How appropriate.) I saw them look again, and the younger of the two held back a snicker. I tried to stop myself, when I went to the bathroom, from saying anything on my way back. Squatting over the toilet I did some quick self talk, convinced myself to be wise and self-composed. I may have been successful, ignored their white trash behavior if--when I walked out-- their conversation hadn't ceased. One may as well have said to the other shh, here she comes... So I threw my shoulders back and sucked in my belly and said, "What exactly is it about me that you find so amusing?" Then I walked on.

The trashier of the two said nothing, the other protested, "What?" I sat back in my chair, picked up my book and ignored her as she continued, "Is there a miscommunication? We weren't talking about you, I was just saying to my friend [...]" And then she became Charlie Brown's teacher. wah wah wah wah wah wah. I didn't turn around. I didn't respond to her lame back-pedaling. I pretended to read my book and thought about how unfortunate that here I am, grateful for the break from teaching high school, only to find life is just one big f*cking continuation.

My friend M would call me her hero for having said/done that, but maybe it only confirms that I am PMS, and a little paranoia has entered the hormonal mix. But I trust that you trust my instincts here. I am a good judge of character and have always been a keen sensor of energy. The women are stupid mean girls, and there's no reason I should regret using proper grammar and dignity to tell them to f*ck off without saying that exactly.

I waited a while, until other pool regulars (with whom I am friendly) came by and we chatted, I finished the next chapter of my book, and I reached my 3 hour pool limit (as if imposing a sun limit at this point in my life will stop me from getting skin cancer) just as a Bloody Mary was calling my name. And now I am off to my sister's to visit with my twin cousins who are in from California.

Thanks for letting me dump. Love you, B