How I Went From Chicken of the Sea to Real Life Mermaid

You shoulda seen the armoire.

Let's start with some unrelated catching up first, shall we?  For starters, I apparently sleepwalk.  With a vengeance.  My bedroom furniture has a great fight story to tell about how it kicked my ass like Chris Brown.  Take that, bitch!  

Yay for my kinda lack of black eye!

Whatever.  I totally won.  The good news is, my armoire has learned a valuable lesson in tangling with the unconscious, and I have recovered nicely.  I mean, it's never a good idea to get physical with your bedroom furniture, but it worked out ok.

That's me on my paddle board.
Look out, river!

In other news, I got to go paddle boarding.  That was a freakin' lot of work.  It's like Surfing met Canoeing, and they had the most difficult baby possible.  It was fun, I'll admit, but it's not for the faint of heart.  Or arm muscle.  I didn't fall off my board, but by the end of my hour rental, I was definitely thinking it would be easier to fall off and swim back, if not for the sting rays and jelly fish.  

So now for the meat of my story:

Yeah.... Remember back when I said I was gonna get scuba certified (click here for a quick refresher) and then I totally didn't?

Guess what!!!

I finally took the course, and got scuba certified.  I was terrified beyond all belief (think panic attacks complete with tears and hyperventilating - even in the hot tub, sometimes in the shower.  Don't judge me.), but at the end of the day, I rocked it like whoa!  

Here I am - coming OUT of the lake because *gasp* I didn't drown!

My only regret?  That it took me this long to grow a pair and do it. I hate that I waited so long.  I'm really good underwater, and I absolutely cannot wait to go again.  I've decided that scuba is a great equalizer.  Down there, there is no hurry, no wait, no competition, and everyone looks the same amount of beautiful in their scuba mask (see above photo).  It's the ultimate zen.  Plus it's just plain beautiful.  It's sort of like floating through Finding Nemo, only the fish come right up to you.  They're as curious about me as I am about them, and that's incredibly cool.  I've been sky diving and bungee jumping (Is it gonna sound awful if I add Rocky Mountain climbing here?  Yep.), and I've never experienced anything like this.  All that said, I don't think I could ever talk anyone into it, as much as I would love to.  I wish everyone could see and experience it, but I don't want to turn into "that" person either.  I've dealt with "that' person, listened to all their stories, reasons and platitudes.  All it ever got them was a big, fat "fuck you very much."  No, scuba, like religion, should be a personal thing.  I can't talk you into it, but if you decide to dive, will you come with me?

Mad props here to Keith at JnD Scuba.  He totally put up with my disorganized ass when I had no business in the water, and he was smart enough to scream at me to swim as I was trying to apologize for almost drowning.  I owe many successful future dives to him, I'm sure.  Gwen was my patient mermaid who got me through the nightmare of water up my nose and salt in my eyes, and showed me the right way to wash my hair on the dive boat.  Captains don't like to get wet, it seems.  Also, a big shout out to The Black Pearl dive boat in Ft. Lauderdale for making my certification dive rock.  Sorry, dive master Andrew, for almost grabbing your nuts when I was coming up the ladder.  Twice.  Getting back on the boat after a dive is difficult and a bit panic-making, and I'm a little bit embarrassed for my grabs, but desperate times and desperate measures and all that.  I'm sure you understand.  And thank you to my husband for planting the seed and never letting me give up on myself.  Ok, I feel like I should swim off stage with my mermaid grammy now.