Last week I was invited out on a girl’s
night out. All very lovely up to the point when I realized that I had an early
training session booked the following morning, and that meant an early
departure from what promised to be an outstanding night out. Historically these
nights are spontaneous, fun, alcoholic, noisy, busy and late… very late, and in
a previous life, wild horses would not have seen me leave early.
Skip forward, and it’s dawned on me that my
life was a far cry from my pre-swimming days, when leaving early never
happened, in fact it was frowned upon (by myself no less), and getting ready
for the night took days, if not weeks of military precision planning and executing,
starting with a shopping trip to buy a new outfit (sometimes several), hair and nail
appointments secured, chicken nuggets purchased (for the kids), and the day of
the night out was given over to the prep work that goes along with the same
said night out, including a ban on all small people, no matter the sudden and
immediate urgency to use that particular toilet, despite there being several
others in the house, entering the bathroom. Music was cranked up to prevent myself
from hearing those small people informing me, by yelling under the door, of
things like the happy news that the dog had been sick all over the carpet,
having eaten the chocolate mousse they had spilt, and that they also felt sick having
eaten 3 each, and that they ‘may’ have also spilt some on the sofa too (despite
there being a rule that all food is eaten at the table…).
I’d already given the girls the heads up
that I’d be leaving at 10pm at the latest and I wouldn’t be drinking. The
response was to question whether I would actually be any fun (!?!), to which I
pointed out that I may not be fun, but I was handy as I could actually drive
them home (I negated to tell them there was a condition attached- that to
benefit from this offer they too must leave at 10pm). And so, after feeding the
kids (who are now old enough to cater for themselves…), walking the dog,
washing the dog who suddenly felt compelled to roll in something sinister,
putting on some laundry (my now wet through, and dirty clothes having bathed
the feral looking dog), I calculated that I had all of 40 minutes to get ready,
which was to include an extended period of time in the shower washing and re
washing my hair to rid myself of the embedded smell of chlorine, however the
need to wash the dog used up all of the hot water, which meant that it was a
speedier shower than I was hoping for, meaning I was unable to do my legs (oh
well), drying my hair before giving up on any style whatsoever and hastily putting it
in a pony tail, putting on some make-up (I have forgotten how fiddly and time consuming
it actually is), finding something to wear that wasn’t sports wear or swim wear,
staring for a long period of time into my wardrobe, despairing at my lack of
‘going out’ clothes in it, and then despairing again at the lack of any
clothes, last seasons or otherwise, trying on the lowest high heeled shoes I
own, that held the least risk of me breaking my neck in. There was no time, or
inclination to paint of manicure my nails although did manage to find the time
to pack my swim kit ready for the next morning, and after dropping my second
born off in town, in completely the opposite direction, I managed to arrive (I
felt) fashionably not too late.
I have to admit I felt a little
uncomfortable and there was a distinct lack of any complements on my outfit choice
(can you believe that?), unlike my friend Tinks, who had complements arriving
thick and fast from everyone (me included) the second she glided in, about
everything from her coordinated nail varnish to her carefully chosen
complementary jewellery and perfume choice. She looked amazing I’ll admit, and
when she casually asked my what the make of my ‘unusual’ smelling perfume, I
realized that I’d even forgotten to put any on! I replied, “Eau du Chlorine”, a
far cry from my pre-swimming self when the perfume of choice was Chanel (not to
be confused with Channel!)! Tinks gave me one of those hugs that are difficult
to interpret. It could have meant you poor, poor thing, or equally it could
have meant you rock the chlorine look… Turns out it was the former, as she then
offered to take me on a shopping trip to revamp my wardrobe. She could have
added “to move you out of the ‘90’s” but she didn’t, even though we both know
that’s what she meant…
The evening came swiftly to an end, and
being honest, it couldn’t have happened soon enough. Once home I began
reflecting on my evening. Had I actually let myself go? I mean, I didn’t bother
with nail varnish anymore as it just never survived the pool, and I didn’t have
the time to apply the several coats required to ensure it was still in place
after even 1 swim, and it was disheartening having to constantly remove it. I
didn’t change my earrings anymore. Gold studs are standard issue (base metal
takes the longest to tarnish apparently, however if anyone of you wishes to
disagree, feel free – I have no clue!). They also often come out when I take my
cap off, so go through so many pairs. I leave the pool wearing gym attire, and
as I work from home, generally remained in it for the rest of the day, without
make-up (I say without, this isn’t completely true… always, and I mean always
with mascara), without really bothering how I look.
There was nothing else for it; I arranged a
coffee with my glam friend Tinks to seek some sartorial advice. She threatened
to take me under her wing, by starting with a shopping trip, and whilst I love
shopping, I explained that I really don’t have much free time at the moment
(although this is true, it’s also true that I just don’t have the inclination
either), at which point she waggled her perfectly manicured finger at me and
told me that I must make the effort. She wasn’t actually saying I looked a bit
shit, but there was no doubt she was implying it – very effectively!
Tinks said that fashion was fickle and that
unless I was prepared to shop frequently, I would be out of fashion in one
season. I’ve been out of season for the past erm… few years or so. Who’s
actually counting? One season seemed not too bad to me. She instead suggested I
go for a timeless and classic wardrobe that would stand the test of time (I’m
taking from that that, as she looked disapprovingly, that she didn’t think the
corduroy trousers I was wearing would…), and therefore less time shopping, and
more time swimming (she had me at the mention of swimming – she knew this was a
weak point and was prepared to go low to get her way). And so the (attempted) transformation
began. We walked straight out of the café and straight into Boots, where she hotfooted
it to the nail varnish aisle. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of colours
stared back at me, I was completely lost, especially as I don’t do colour, in
nail varnish or clothes. I do black, and to add a splash of colour I add grey,
and if I’m pushing the boat out, perhaps some khaki. Bright coloured nail
varnish is not for me -never was, except for my first GNS swim, where I made
the mistake of thinking it would be great to match the splashes of blue on my
wetsuit to some coordinated nail varnish. I wish now that I’d matched the main
part of it (black) now, I felt so uncomfortable wearing it – nothing draws
attention to your gigantic hands quite like a bright aqua blue! Fast forward
and nail varnish had certainly moved on since I last bought some, back in the
day when you chose your colour, paid for it and then left the shop, applied it,
and waited an hour for each coat to dry, these days there’s shiny, not shiny,
gel, accessories to put on your nails, literally all sorts. And then I saw it…
the 60 seconds drying nail varnish. 60 seconds? Was that it? Only 60 seconds!
And it came in lovely dull, lifeless colours too. Hooray!
Clever me bought some (in standard clear
and a just off clear kind of skin colour called Nude) and felt quite pleased
with myself, I mean, if it comes off or looks shabby, only a keen eye would
notice, a great compromise I felt… that was until Tinks pointed out that my chosen
colours were kind of missing the point, however I reminded her that I would
need gently guiding into the new me. Rome was not built in a day.
Next stop, which meant walking past the
window displaying a black sparkly swimming costume, and although clearly for a
holiday, I was drawn like a magnet. Tinks reminded me that a swimming costume,
sparkly of other, does not count towards a capsule wardrobe, and ushered me on.
Trying to remain enthusiastic, I followed her row of clothes after row of
clothes, until she had two arms full of colour… At this point she noticed my
distress, and pointed to the one piece of black clothing – a t-shirt with ‘glamorous’
written in it in a silver cursive, sequined script, and said “these are all for
me, that one’s for you.” I sagged in relief, as I feel that trades descriptions
would be onto me like a shot if I bought it, however entering the spirit of the
day, AND because I’d asked her, I went to try it on.
The t-shirt was not the success Tinks was
hoping for. The cursive ‘glamorous,’ once on changed somewhat, and looked more
like ‘amorous’ which is lots, lots worse than the former. The sparkly swimming
costume that I’d snuck in to the changing room, on the other hand, was an
absolute triumph, and then I was faced with the dilemma; do I come clean about
the costume, or do I buy the t-shirt as well, using it as a red herring to buy
the costume? I very suddenly had a brilliant idea, and after some
conspiratorial whispering with the changing room attendant, I slip her the
money and the label for the costume, and she returns with my receipt and my
chance. The transaction was completed in next to no time, and I leave the shop
dressed in my newly purchased costume, but rather than in a bag it was under my
clothes. Genius!
3 hours, and 2 essential coffee breaks
later (needed to regain my strength, and her sanity), and I have purchased the
following:
2 x nail varnishes (assorted colours
(ish)).
1 x sparkly swimming costume (shhh).
1 x flip-flops (also useful lakeside)
Not the most successful of trip, and Tinks
is ready to throw in the metaphorical towel, when I spot a beautiful blue
dress. Blue (I know!) and kind of swirly, and I think I love it. A very excited
Tinks would have probably shoved it over my head to try on there and then in
the middle of the shop, but instead frog marched me to the changing rooms. I
laughed and told her I’d changed out of clothes in the open air, lakeside on
many occasion. Tinks looks horrified at the thought of me walking round the
shop in a state of undress, however little does she know that even if I were to
strip off, I’d be in less of a state of undress than she knows!
And it was whilst I was trying it on that I
began thinking. Had I actually let myself go? I may not wear nail varnish anymore,
I may not have this seasons ‘must have’ dress, make-up is a minimum, I can’t
walk in 7” (or 177.8mm) heels anymore (who am I kidding? I never really could) and my hair
is styled (and I use this term very loosely indeed) for ease, but here’s the
thing- I am fitter than I’ve been in years, I eat more carefully (the odd cake
being the exception), I am focused, and determined and I feel great. So I
suppose if you’re asking if I have let myself go, I would say it depends on who
you’re asking. Is it the end of the world if I turn up to a night out wearing
my corduroy from the ‘90’s or even wearing my gym gear? No it won’t. Having
said that, I will buy the dress (which is lovely by the way) and I will wear it
on our next night out, and I will make a conscious effort to block out 60
seconds beforehand to apply one of my new nail varnishes, I may also decide to
team it up with the flip flops, which I’m sure is a big fat fashion no-no, but probably
a huge improvement on last time’s outfit! And as I have our next girls night out outfit in the bag, I can spend my time and money instead on new swimwear; something that I will wear far more frequently. I may not rock the fashion world anymore, and I may not know whether orange or pink or green or blue is the new black, but what I do know is my Speedo from my Swimzi and my Deakin and Blue from my Dolfin... And so you see (as I have demonstrated here), in my own world, I am actually very much a dedicated follower of fashion!
Finally, it's a year since I first began writing my little blog, which stared as a way of writing about my recovery, the training and the swim I did last year (Windermere one way). I have been amazed and overwhelmed at the amazing response, and lovely messages of support I have had. After I had completed the swim I was asked if I would consider putting last year’s journey into a book. Going from a blog to an e-book is something quite different, and a lot scarier, however I decided after a lot of consideration to take the plunge (no pun intended) and do it, and finally has now been published this week on Amazon. How amazing (but mostly scary) is that? I hope that for those of you that read it feel inspired to not only take on difficult challenges, but also to never underestimate how far you can push yourself to achieve what you set out to do.
@Openwaterwoman_
Open Water Woman
Finally, it's a year since I first began writing my little blog, which stared as a way of writing about my recovery, the training and the swim I did last year (Windermere one way). I have been amazed and overwhelmed at the amazing response, and lovely messages of support I have had. After I had completed the swim I was asked if I would consider putting last year’s journey into a book. Going from a blog to an e-book is something quite different, and a lot scarier, however I decided after a lot of consideration to take the plunge (no pun intended) and do it, and finally has now been published this week on Amazon. How amazing (but mostly scary) is that? I hope that for those of you that read it feel inspired to not only take on difficult challenges, but also to never underestimate how far you can push yourself to achieve what you set out to do.
 |
| Open Water Woman Swims Windermere is available on Amazon |
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Open-Water-Woman-Swims-Windermere-ebook/dp/B079ZB1775/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1520196854&sr=8-1&keywords=jacqui+Hargrave
I also have a 'group' page on Facebook and am on Twitter and Instagram, where I post daily shenanigans and such like. If you'd like to join/follow you'd be very welcome. Here are the links. 😊
@Openwaterwoman_
Open Water Woman
