Today is the twenty-second of August, 2014 and at this stage, quite possibly one of the most disturbing days of my adolescence. Today is the day of water-polo trials, a concept that fails to impress me. Actually, forget impress, water-polo trials are the bane of my existence. My kryptonite. I am a secret agent and water-polo trials are that annoying kid that always ruins my mission. I am Dora the Explorer and water-polo trials are Swiper the Fox. Swiping my joy, that is, not my backpack.
First there’s the attire. You may want to zone about a bit here as I don’t really have an alternate concept to the common swimsuit. But I still think it deserves mentioning that swimsuits are an absolute joke. Here’s a quick statistic: In a recent telephone poll, PEOPLE magazine asked 1,000 women about their bodies and self-esteem. The results? Only 10 percent of respondents said they were completely satisfied with their bodies. So if that fun-fact is anything to go off, I am not alone in saying that wearing a swimsuit is not something I look forward to. My body has its perks – my hips are incredibly useful when carrying my books between classes and the woman who pierced my ears told me I have nice earlobes. But my body was not designed to be crammed into a strappy tube of polyester and spandex. And it was certainly not designed to be seen in such a state.
I hate pools too. The common swimming pool is the epitome of over-indulgence. We are swimming up and down in a box full of water, with no direction, minimal purpose. Meanwhile, people all of the world are dehydrated, drowning in dust, shrivelling towards their death. And we choose to taint our surplus of such a sought after resource with chemicals, rendering it undrinkable. How selfish. How despicable. How dare they force me to take part in such a crime against humanity?
Of course then there’s the question of the swimming caps. You have not experienced traumatic pain, in my opinion, until you have tried and failed to put on a swimming cap. When a swimming cap goes on easily, that’s fine and dandy but that doesn’t always happen my friend, let’s be realistic. I understand why we wear swimming caps – health and safety etcetera. But you see, that is an easy fix – no hair. I kid you not, enforced baldness is the solution. If everyone was bald, there would be no swimming caps. No bad hair days or dodgy haircuts. No head lice epidemics. Gone are the days of clogged drains and children having to be expressly told not to chew on their hair. Genius, I know.
Finally, my main point – why are they trialling me in the first place? I know that I’m not very good. I don’t want to be very good. I just want to meet some people and have a good time. So why should I have to swim up and down a pool for an hour and chuck a ball at a net so that they can tell me that I’m not very good and place me in the C’s? What is the point? It’s a waste of my time, a waste of their time and not exactly wonderful for the old self-esteem. So here’s my proposed solution – self-nominated teams. If I was super athletic and amazing at treading water and hitting people in the face, I would know. Hence, I would nominate for the A’s. If I wasn’t any of the above things, I would not nominate for the A’s, but opt for the B’s or the C’s. If I was uber competitive, I would put myself in the A’s. If I just wanted to float around and contemplate life, I would nominate in the C’s. It’s obvious to me that this is a far better system than what is currently in place. The only possible loop-hole is greed, a common and disgusting issue. But hey, that can be easily dealt with via The Hunger Games. I think that might be a plan to discuss another day though.