I hate Jaws

The movie "Jaws" ruined my afternoon. Damn you, Steven Spielberg.

Did I watch "Jaws" today? No. Like many people in my generation, I will spend my entire life dealing with the emotional scarring left by watching a horror movie about a giant shark during early formative years.

My earliest memories of pools were that I looked at the deep end regularly to check for Jaws swimming around. Even after I aged into logic and no longer looked for sharks in swimming pools, I did not like to be in water where large things could swim.

Today, some of my biggest fears are of the ocean or swimming anywhere where an underwater animal lives that is half my size or larger. This includes the overgrown catfish in Texas lakes. I even got very anxious the first time that I watched "Finding Nemo" because of the scene with the enormous whale.

Okay, so how did this ruin my afternoon? I've been unable to swim all week because of swimmer's ear. I spent all of my free time the last few days laying in bed and wallowing in the misery of menstruation. This afternoon, I got antsy and decided to go swim laps. Yay! What a good idea!

Bad idea. Apparently, there is a scuba diving class that meets all day long at my pool on Saturdays and Sundays. The only lane open at the pool was the one closest to the class. I thought "no problem" and started swimming. All was well until I reached the deep end and saw a giant black thing with giant black flippers and a tank and mask 3 feet away from me. Logic? Yes, it is some college kid who doesn't care about the fat lady swimming in the next lane. Emotional reaction? FREAK OUT! After two laps, I couldn't bring myself to go back down where a dozen people were at the bottom of the pool looking at me. Everyone knows that when you see a swimmer from below the water, someone is about to be eaten by a shark.

I got out of the pool and left after 3 laps. Damn you, Jaws. Damn you, scuba team. Damn you, deep psychological issues.