Monday, July 6, 2009

860th Post - Stupid Things Bevboy Has Done, Part Two

Welcome to the second installment of my irregularly-published feature on Bevboy's Blog: Stupid Things Bevboy Has Done, or STBHD for short. This series is all about dumb things I have done over the many years of my life, or the dumb things I have had done to me. The net result is my feeling, well, stupid. I tellya: There is no other blog in the world that gives you so much content all for one low, low price. Remember that when this year's Coast Awards vote comes.

This incident goes all the way back to when I was 8 or 9. I had taken swimming lessons when I was 8. I remember them very well. My younger sister, a neighbour girl named Heather Harvey, and I were driven by Heather's mom to Acadia University every Tuesday, I think it was. Heather's mom, Joan, often ran late. I remember standing in the backyard looking up through all the back fields, staring for the truck to arrive. Invariably, it would; and we would be rushed to the nearby university, arriving just in time to change into our swimsuits and learn to swim.

I made it through the lessons, but darned if I can remember the first doggone thing about it. To this day, I can't swim a stroke. To this day, I avoid puddles in case I might fall in and drown.

Anyway, perhaps a year later, I went swimming at the university. I remember people looking at me, pointing at me, and smiling. I figured it was because I was such a good swimmer, rushing back and forth along the lengths of the (shallow) pool. I felt like Mark Spitz!

I got home, refreshed, happy, proud of myself for having won the adoration of the crowd. I took off my trunks and threw them in the pile of clothes for my mother to wash.

The next day, my mother came into my bedroom, looking very concerned. She asked if these had been the trunks I had worn the day before. I said they had been, and relished the prevous day's events for a moment. "Well, then; people got a free show!", she said, putting her finger through the rear end of the trunks, which had split nearly through the entire crotch area.

So, it wasn't my swimming that had attracted people's attention that day. It was... little Bevboy.

Maybe that's why I haven't swum since. Too self-conscious. If that kind of thing happened today, I'd be up on charges!

In the next installment, whenever I get around to writing it: Check your math.


1 comment:

Glenda said...

I can vaguely remember going for those lessons that fateful summer...still swim like a rock!