what swimming has taught me about getting dressed

a microdose of monasticism for a girl who loves material things

In junior year of college, I lived right across the street from the campus pool. It was great. After my Public Sector Economics class ended at 12:15, I would speedwalk to my dorm, change into my suit, go to the pool, speedwalk back, shower, eat lunch, and speedwalk to my 1:30 class. On one of these days I ran into a girl from class. We swam in lanes next to each other but it wasn’t until I got out and took off my swim cap that she recognized me and said hi.

Yes. When I’m swimming, everything that makes me look stylized feels rinsed away. There is no doll-y bob haircut, no bangs. My head is a dot. A round latex egg. My swimsuit clings to my skin: revealing a lot of me yet revealing nothing about me. The cold chlorine water makes my skin feel blank and red. Slicking down my upper lip hairs and making them appear darker, more moustache-y. Shivering in a towel covered in goosebumps and water droplets, squinting at the sunset with stinging eyes.

I don’t remember being born but it must’ve felt something like this.

Even though I don’t feel stylish or pretty or feminine, I savor the feeling of being stripped of context. It’s invigorating. I don’t identity as Viv, I identify as a skeleton with organs, skin and water. Embodied, I think that’s what the somatic healing people call it. Swimming reminds me of who I am without the clothes and material things. It’s my microdose of monasticism.

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It’s after swimming that the theatrics of getting dressed sink in for me. But I enjoy it more for that reason. I get to feel like the blankest of slates and put my costumes on. The routine of getting dressed is heightened into something more ritualistic.

When I worked at my first office job, I would scurry away to the YMCA nearby during lunch and swim (after setting my status to “busy”). Then I’d waddle into the locker room with my towel, eager to put my clothes on in front of the mirror so I could relish the transformation. Adding fabrics and color and shape to my body. There was a pair of orange Intentionally Blank mules I was obsessed with, my shoes were always the finishing touch.

I love being adorned in material things. Sometimes, being stripped of it all makes it that much sweeter to be reunited with them.

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yours truly,

viv