Don't judge a book by it's cover, or a girl by her figure.

I love the summer time so much. It is without question my favorite time of the year. Sunshine, tan skin, margaritas… Often we will have friends gather at my neighborhood pool to bar-b-que, share some unique alcoholic punches of varying flavors and colors, swim, play, lay in the sun, etc… Others in my neighborhood do this as well, and it generally turns in to a mash-up of friends and good times. The other day I had a couple hours free on a glorious Saturday, so I decided to go lay out at the pool for awhile and read my book. There was a little paper sign on the gate that said “happy birthday Brandon” with a picture of a dinosaur on it surrounded by spider man stickers. I was guessing based on this that Brandon was not turning 25 and that there would be no alcoholic punch of any color available for partaking in at this particular pool party.

Once inside the pool area I was actually happy to see the many kids splashing and playing in the shallow end of the pool, older kids doing cannon balls into the deeper end. All too often I visit the gigantic pool and find that I am the only person there. Which is a shame given the amount of money we homeowners pay annually to keep the thing open and sparkling clean.

I walked down near the deep end of the pool and set up shop. Towel on the lounger, check. Book out, check. Flip flops off, Gatorade out, dunk in the pool to cool off, check, check, check. Once established, I took a quick scan of the entire pool. I will be the first to admit that I am a people-watcher. People are infinitely interesting to me. I think there’s a lot to be said for what you can tell about people by watching them for 5 minutes. I also think there’s a lot to be said for what you CAN’T tell about them, both points equally intriguing.

Near the covered area of the concrete, what we call “the pavilion”, the birthday party-goers gathered. Moms and dads with children scattered all over ranging in ages from 8 months to probably 12 or 13 years old. Most of the women were wearing dark colored swimsuits with skirt bottoms, the men in Hawaiian flowered trunks of blue, red, orange. Both trying to wrangle children long enough to slap some spf 30 on them and send them on their way. I sat down on my lounger and thought about how I can’t wait until that’s me. Cranky and yelling, “Get over here so I can put sunscreen on you! You’re going to burn up like a Christmas Ham!” I smiled to myself, because that’s exactly what I would say.

It wasn’t long after I was all settled in with my borrowed copy of Dry, by Augusten Burroughs, that I noticed the cutest little toddler jumping off the side of the pool. He was absolutely fearless. His dad would catch him, let him go under water, pop him back up, and set him back on the edge. He would run a circle and charge back into the pool. This went on for several minutes. He just laughed and laughed… it was one of the cutest things I’d ever seen! The little baby noticed me too and really began hamming it up. Smiling and looking back to make sure I was watching before plunging in again. Shortly thereafter I flipped over onto my stomach and returned to my book.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of three women gathering in the pool. They were near the father/ son dynamic duo, and about 15 feet from where I was laying. It became apparent that one of the women in the pool was the mother of the brave little cliff jumper, and the other two were her friends. I began to hear under-the-breath comments, though I wasn’t catching full sentences. “Inaudible… inaudible… Barbie… inaudible… with her little towel and Gatorade… hehehe inaudible” giggle… giggle… giggle…

I didn’t look up for a long time. Just pretended I couldn’t hear them, and kept my nose in my book. Then, “Hey Evan, go ask her how much those puppies set her back!” Hehehe Giggle… giggle…. cackle. Evan, the apparent father of baby Cliff Jumper turned around and shushed them. Obviously embarrassed by his wife’s rather large friend’s outbursts, he took the baby to the other side of the pool. Not saying anything, I glanced up at the group in the water. I started thinking… these women are mothers for God’s sake. Don’t they have something better to do with their time than gawk at me and make ridiculous rude comments based on inappropriate assumptions? Whatever. Long ago I abandoned the idea that everyone in the world was nice and good. I turned back over, still reading, and took a sip of my Gatorade. It was getting a little warm. Yuck.

A few minutes later I heard again, “Evan… seriously… go ask her! (Laugh, snort) Go ask her how much those things set her back!” Evan still ignored the woman I’d begun to refer to in my mind as the ‘big-mouthed-not-so-beached-whale’. But she and her two friends still cackled in the pool, bobbing up and down like a few misplaced buoys. The sight of them, accompanied by her words started to sting a little. I started bouncing thoughts around in my head… So let me get this straight… just because I have on a two piece swimsuit, sans skirt bottom, and am drinking Gatorade, reading, and laying out… I am “Barbie” and you want to know what my “puppies set me back”? Screw that. There are many women in this world who do have breast implants, a number of them because of that awful thing known as breast cancer. My future mother in law, for example… One of the most beautiful women I know, inside and out. If those cellulite infested women had made that comment about her, I would have been in that pool swinging in a heartbeat. I am lucky. I have not had breast cancer. But these women don’t know that.

I made up my mind to leave. As I stood up and began to pack my things I heard another Barbie comment, something about “…don’t forget your heels ha ha ha.” I looked down at my 3 dollar Old Navy flip flops and simply could not take it anymore. I turned around, beach bag on my shoulder, and walked to the edge of the pool so that I was looking squarely down on the cacklers. “Are you referring to these ‘puppies’?” I asked and pointed to my chest. The women just looked at me, two of them moving slightly away from the one delivering the colorful commentary. The looks on their faces said ‘oh shit’ as they shifted their gazes from me to the whale and back again. Whale started, “oh… well…. I….” but I cut her off.

Staring right at her I said, “Oh, I don’t know. If I have to guess I’d say they’re worth about 5 grand, give or take. Also, I know a really great doctor if you’d like his number. He does liposuction so you could get some of that (finger pointing up and down motion) taken care of.” She stood there in the pool, mouth open, just looking up at me. Then she kind of whispered, “Excuse… me…?”… My turn again. “Oh, have I offended you? I apologize. I thought we were free to share our thoughts on each other’s appearances here today. Sorry ‘bout that.”

I walked away slowly; prepared for more battle should that be necessary. I could feel all the catty women in the pool watch me leave. But as I walked passed Evan, he smiled at me and waved Cliff Jumper’s little baby hand. I felt bad for stooping to their level, but part of me really hoped that there was some kind of lesson communicated. That maybe next time they won’t be so rude, judgmental, and mean spirited. I know that since the beginning of time girls have been unkind to one another occasionally, but it’s no wonder we have such bully issues in schools these days with mothers like that setting examples.

Please, everyone. Be slow to judge. Harrumph.