Middle school swim class wasn’t funny. I remember walking down the stairs and feeling stale heat and the scent of chlorine getting worse with every step down. I was standing in the bathing suit line and suddenly it was my turn. I whispered, “34” or whatever a larger than normal bathing suit size was and my swim teacher Mrs. B screams, “She needs a 34!”
Everyone else was holding their 28’s.
Then comes the walk of shame to the bleachers in the baggy suit that somehow manages to cling to all the awkward spots. Being in the pool was actually the best part.
Once out, we scurry to the locker room to “do our hair” in the five minutes before our next class. We always ended up looking like drown rats anyway.
— 24 y/o female from Pottstown, PA