Little Pool House of Horrors

Why is it that I always have to pee more often when I’m wearing a one-piece bathing suit?

Probably because it’s sucking in my fat so forcefully that my bladder cannot store even one 12 oz. poolside beverage for any length of time.

I know everyone else is just peeing in the water.

That dad in the Deep End, with the red solo cup, has been sitting in his inner tube for 3 hours.

I don’t know whether it’s moral opposition – or the fact that I still believe there’s purple pee-dye in the pool, but I just can’t do it.

So I waddle into the restroom like a wet Beluga – trying not to think about the grey mystery slop on the floor.

I writhe my body out of it’s sausage casing and sit down on the toilet completely naked – freezing.

Praying the snot-nosed boys outside don’t figure out the door code and walk in on me.

Wouldn’t want to traumatize the children.

Like the time I accidentally saw my grandmother naked at the beach.

Holy shit.

In my 8-year-old mind, her breasts were enormous…and flat…and long. Like two deflated whoopy cushions smashed against her body. She must have been 100 years old…

She was probably 57 with a great body.

After my 5 minutes of peace, I stand up and….

Oh God.

I can’t get my bathing suit back on. I mean…I REALLY cannot get this bitch back on my body.

Meanwhile the kids outside are tugging on the door handle. Giggling.

I pull. And pull. And nothing. I cannot even get it over my ass cheeks.

Panic sets in.

I have no cell phone. No way to call the outside world for help. Who would I even call?

My husband is the only one with the kindness AND the physical aptitude to handle the job.

I’ve seen him fit a large pizza box in an already-full ForceFlex Trash Bag.

Hmm…how long will it take before he comes to rescue me on his own?

Probably hours.

He’s most likely thrilled to have 10 nag-free-minutes without me.

I could be in here for days.

I decide to calm down and move slowly.

Centimeter by centimeter, I inch the suit up over my body. Over the butt… Now over the belly… I shove my boobs inside and…

The lights go out.

Oh my God. I must’ve been in here so long the timer went off.

I flail my arms around to set off the sensor, but I’m disoriented.

I feel for the wall. I would take off my sunglasses, but they’re prescription, and I’m legally blind, so that could only make matters worse.

What seems like hours later… I find the door handle.


I shield my eyes from the sun.

I’ve just escaped The Hole, and no one on the outside seems to care.

I think to myself…the next time I have to use the restroom (which will be in like 15 minutes) I am DEFINITELY going to bring Colt’s flashlight and his toy pliers…

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2 thoughts on “Little Pool House of Horrors

  1. Lynda Chandler says:

    You are just too freakin’ funny, Julie! Love, Your mother

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