Zoot Suit

I bought a new wetsuit.

Last season I swam in a sleeveless suit, because nobody seemed to be able to find a sleeved suit that fit my - shall me say - "distinctive physique". I was always cold and I got stung on the arm by a jellyfish and I hated it. I tried a new store, and the experience was much less emotionally scarring than the first time I went shopping for a wetsuit. It was less traumatic than the second time I went shopping for a wetsuit.

It's all about the euphemisms: rather than telling me "you're built like a little girl", this new salesguy told me "we'll put you in a European cut." (We 'Mericans know that "European" is typically a euphemism for "wimpy", but sometimes it can mean "sleek". I'll leave it to the reader to decide which meaning he was using.) The first suit he had me try on (the manly Ironman) didn't fit me at all, but the second one (Zoot) seemed to be OK. My only regret of the day is that a certain someone who shall remain nameless (Annie) had to walk by and watch me trying to squeeze into the suits. So undignified.

Wetsuits fit very differently in the water than they do in a store. I tested the suit at Venice Beach on Saturday, and it wasn't quite right. Maybe I just had the sleeves twisted a bit, or maybe I just wasn't used to actually wearing sleeves, but it just felt awkward. However, I was not cold at all. Not even a shiver. Nothing. I'm not going to the Olympics; I'll sacrifice some comfort for warmth if I have to.

I had forgotten how tiring it is to swim in the ocean. And what I was doing was barely swimming at all. Since I was by myself I didn't go out too deep, I basically just went through some waves and back to shore a few times. And I was wiped out. Exhausted. It not like having tired legs after a run, this was just a complete drain of energy from my very core. I need to get back to the beach.