I spent the night in Kokomo at a hotel with an indoor pool and a jacuzzi. After I checked in, I was hauling my luggage up to my room and I started to smell the distinct scent of chlorine. I walked past the pool and all of the sudden, I felt like a kid again. I wanted to just hurry up and jump in. I wanted to tug at my parents' shirts and beg "mommy, daddy, PUH-LEEEEZ, can I play in the pool?" Of course, I wasn't there with Mommy and Daddy, I was alone, carrying my laptop computer and a case full of files, ready to spend the night catching up on some work. Looking at the pool, I had a strong feeling that wasn't going to happen.
I hurried to my room to change into my "play clothes" and remembered I hadn't packed my swim suit. I had packed in a hurry and told myself I wasn't going to be needing it anyways since I wasn't sure if the place had a pool and even if it did, I was going to be spending the evening doing work, so no need to pack it. Furthermore, the more pessimistic part of my psyche told me that even if there was a pool and even if I wanted to get in it, I wouldn't. That negative nilly was telling me that I'd be too embarassed to be seen in public in a bathing suit. That nagging voice reminded me that even when I was thin, I hated being in a swim suit b/c I was so pale, and even then I was self conscience about my body shape. How in the world was I, a rape survivor who gained over one hundred pounds out of fear, going to be brave enough to step outside of my room/comfort zone with so little clothing?
Also, I don't know how to swim. And I'm by myself. So I'm going to be in a swim suit, alone in a pool, not knowing how to swim. Sounds like I would be putting myself in quite a vulnerable situation there.
I did it, though. I did it and lived to tell the tale. Swimming in your hotel pool may not seem like a lot for most people, but it was a huge deal for me. I dealt with my own fears of putting myself in a vulnerable place and faced my insecurities about my body and I just had fun. It was one of those few times where I didn't identify myself as a rape victim, for that brief time, I was just me.