Special Olympic Prostitute

“I’m a one legged prostitute, I’m a one legged prostitute!” Yes, this is what I jumped around yelling in the middle of a public pool. After seeing the brilliant classic flick, Titanic, starring the hottie Leo DiCaprio, I thought all people with one leg were called prostitutes. Thanks to this wonderful film and my childish misunderstanding I decided to play a game with my self in which I was a ‘one-legged prostitute.’ Why I decide to imitate a one legged person in a pool is beyond me, but at the time, it seemed sensible. But as I later found out it is quite a difficult task if you’d like to remain afloat. In the shallow end of a three-feet deep pool, at my whopping height of 3’4,’’ there I stood, both of my hands were holding one of my legs behind my back and I violently bobbed up and down, repeating those five embarrassing words, “I’m a one legged prostitute, I’m a one legged prostitute!” The last I remember, although I desperately try to forget, is my cousins laughing at me, along with every one in a one mile radius, followed by the mother daughter chat that all kids avoid.
At the time, this event may have been very dramatizing, because no kid should have to be explained the true meaning of a prostitute in front of hundreds of strangers, but looking at it now I am able to find the humor that everyone else seemed to have enjoyed. My childhood was filled with many embarrassing moments that were so ‘utterly horrible’ that I’ve tried to forget them, however, as I searched my memory I came across one that I’m pretty sure I have not told anyone to this day.
It was another hot summer afternoon spent belly-flopping and searching for sunken turtles. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual routine of drinking Frutopias and eating sour cream and onion chips. Everything was perfect except for I hated the last 15 minutes of the hour, which was dedicated to adults. Adult swim is one thing that always blows my mind. I mean for starters, no one ever goes in the pool, and even if they do it is the one hairy fat guy, and too be honest he doesn’t need an entire pool, he can share the remaining 3/4s to the rest of us. Anyways that’s beside the point here we are stranded on the cement with nothing to do. So my sisters and I decided to lay, bellies down, on the cement to soak up the warmth. Everything was going great until I got the urge to pee, at this point I may have gotten a little too comfortable or maybe it was laziness, but whatever the case was, I didn’t feel inclined to move. I figured that I had to pee only a little, so if I peed slowly, and just a little bit, well, then, maybe nobody would notice. However, let me tell you I was terribly mistaken and all I know is that my plan when down hill. Once I started I couldn’t stop. So there I was laying there when I noticed a little pee river on my right side. I think I neglected to notice the slight slant in the cement because it was making a bee-line for my sister who was next to me. I didn’t have time to think, I could only react! So I figured I’d scoot closer to her so that the towel on my back would soak up the trail. Ahhh… mission accomplished, or so I thought. Next, since it couldn’t go out to the side, it went down. Down, down, down. There was no other way; I had to pretend I felt like rolling. So there I was, flailing this way and that, soaking up pee and trying to hide that it was me. If anyone noticed, it is hard to say, except for the life guard that watched my drop a wet towel with a slight yellow tint into the dirty bin. He must have thought I spilt my lemonade.
Although it appears I have thoroughly embarrassed myself, let it be known that I had the last laugh. In a second grade art class we were allowed to draw whatever we pleased. What I drew, I have no idea, but what I do remember is that my friend drew a three-legged dog. I sat back and smiled as she pranced around shouting for everyone to look at her three-legged prostitute.