We’ve belonged to a local pool since moving here in the summer of 1990. The same lady (I’ll call her Mrs. P) has owned and managed it all that time. Being a woman of impeccable taste, she has always loved our children, even hiring HS to work at the snackbar back when he was in high school. She has known BD since she was five months old, and has watched her grow from the baby pool to the main pool to the diving pool to the high dive.
However, we never see Mrs. P in the off-season, so she has missed BD’s blossoming over the past few months. She lost about ten pounds last fall, and her face and body have taken on a way-too-mature look for her parents’ peace of mind. I won’t even go into the fact that she likes to sneak on makeup when she’s out of my sight.
The upshot of all this is that when she walked into the pool for the first time this season, Mrs. P had no clue who she was. We had mailed our membership fee in rather late, and haven’t received our membership cards in the mail yet. Not that we’ve ever had to show them in the past. Mr. B and I weren’t with BD (which is the way she prefers it these days, anyway).
"Are you a member?" Mrs. P asked.
"Yes."
"What is your last name?"
She told her.
"You’re BD?" she asked, amazed.
"Yes."
Mrs. P was not convinced. "What’s your brother’s name?"
When BD answered correctly, she was admitted to the pool. But I suspect that I may have to vouch for her next time I go.
Unless, of course, Mrs. P has trouble recognizing me with those ten pounds of BD’s that I packed on over the winter.
One Comment
Been there; done that! It won’t be long, though, before my girls’ will be writing the same thing you just wrote.
Paul Nicholss last blog post..Nice Photos Department