Looking at the World Through Prescription-Colored Goggles

I have always been a fish -- maybe not a fast fish, but a fish (thus explaining my aversion to eat other fish and practice cannibalism ;-) All joking aside, I love being in the water -- especially the pool. Pools are clean and most importantly you can see the bottom (and anything headed your direction -- an important point for someone who once found herself face-to-face with a dorsal fin in the ocean).
Growing up, I loved swimming. In high school, I even joined a synchronized swimming team. That didn't last long (I fell in love with the harp instead) -- but it at least taught me the basic swimming strokes and the confidence that maybe I wouldn't look like a complete idiot swimming laps in the pool. (The lack of idiot factor quickly diminished once I couldn't wear contacts anymore and I started running into things headed my direction --i.e. other swimmers and the wall!) My swimming knowledge became handy once I started graduate school for I realized that it was impossible to maintain a rigorous practice regime without building up my arm and back muscles. Swimming became my weekly exercise and stress relief. After moving to Japan, I realized that I once again needed a stress reliever. Of course, the harp has helped, but for me playing and swimming must come hand-in-hand. When I mentioned this to my Japanese teacher, he made it his mission to help me find a pool. After doing all of the phone calling, map searching, and information requesting, he took me on a grand tour of three of Hamamatsu's finest pools. I finally settled on one close to two of my elementary schools. Armed with my new-found prescription goggles, I was ready to conquer anything -- or so I thought. I bravely went into the locker room, and changed into my swimming suit -- something I hadn't done in several years. It was then I realized I had no idea where the pool actually was. So, mustering up courage, I approached another lady in the locker room who kindly lead me down a corridor, through way too many doors, down some stairs and finally to the pool's entrance. As we entered, I was greeted with a surprised chorus of "Emily-teacher." You guessed it! Here I was, feeling very self-aware in my suit, now surrounded by a bunch of my students -- who, come to find out, make up a large percentage of the pool's swimming school students. To make matters worse, all their parents were proudly watching the kids from the upper deck!! But, even if I felt awkward in my swimming suit, I wasn't going to be defeated! I walked to the pool's cubbie-holes and laid down my glasses and towel. Then cautiously (and blindly) I timidly walked toward the pool slipping on the deck, the stairs, and in a final act of grace -- into the pool!