Last night I had the pleasure of trying on a wetsuit. If you've never experienced this particular undertaking, well, good for you. It is most unpleasant. No amount of jumping up and down or praying to a higher power will get that rubber monstrosity over your hips. You finally resort to inching it up centimeter by centimeter until you just go for it and thrust your arms into the sleeves. By now you are hunched over because the crotch is around your knees. This requires the help of at least one other person. And then they will laugh at you and say it's like dressing a penguin. And then you'll laugh because you're just so fricking happy the thing zipped up. And then you'll marvel at your physique because you are packed in like a neoprene bomb. Some repetitive rubbing of the sleekness might be in order. And then you have to take it off. Much easier than putting it on but you are deathly afraid of ripping a hole in the fabric. And amazed at the amount of sweat you've generated in 10 minutes. You decide to buy one to wear around the house, sort of like a homemade sauna. But it's a little expensive. And will you really use it? But as you stroke it longingly you calculate how many uses you could get out of it. You mention that you feel really close to the suit because you've been through so much together. And you're kind of skeeved out by the thought of buying a used wetsuit because you've seen first hand the damage one sweaty body can do in a relatively short time. So, buy or not buy. That is the question.
Does anyone ever mention to you how amazingly courageous and heroic you are? Though I know your finer qualities rather well, I don't think I often stop to say how amazed I am by you and that incredible perspective of yours that allows you to tell the truth on yourself for all to read and see (and later remind you of lest you forget you've said thus and so. There are not enough superlatives for me to offer. All praise and glory to you, Jennifer. You are The Woman!
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