People say there are some things you just have to do before you die.
Some people believe you have to visit Europe; others might say you have to go sky-diving or white-water rafting.
If you were to ask me, I’d say you must wear a Speedo in front of complete strangers.
That might sound embarrassing (which it is), but trust me, wearing one for the first time will undoubtedly change your life.
My first encounter with a Speedo came recently in Italy, where I am currently an exchange student.
I was seeking a different kind of exercise, rather than the running and basketball that I had become accustomed to after the first couple of months, so I asked about swimming. Sure enough, there was a pool not far from the house I was staying in that I could go swim in three times a week. But pools are a little different in Italy; there are certain rules that have to be followed.
The first rule was that there are absolutely no shoes allowed in the pool house, so you wear a type of Croc knock-off; not so bad.
The second rule was that swimmers have to wear goggles and a swim cap whenever they’re in the water. OK, so Italians might be slightly germaphobic and overly concerned about hair in the pool filters, but better safe than sorry, right?
It was the third rule that I had the most trouble with. All swimmers had to wear a “costume da bagno” while in the pool. A Speedo.
But I had gone too far to turn back. I already had received a little package containing all the necessary equipment for the pool, including the Speedo, from the pool manager. I am 6 feet tall and 170 pounds, so had been given the large-sized pack.
The Speedo was anything but large, however.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think I am a slouch when it comes to physical fitness. I am an ex-linebacker and I still work out regularly.
In fact, I am somewhat proud of my body, but you could look like Brad Pitt and be more than a little uncomfortable wearing a Speedo for the first time. It’s, uh, revealing, to say the least, and as I looked in the mirror before I went out onto the pool deck, that is all I could think about.
“Wow, I am so exposed. What the heck am I doing?”
In short, I was utterly petrified to face those other people, even though I had never met any of them, and I had no idea why.
Then, just as I was about to curl up into a little ball and hide in a locker, an invisible hand yanked me to me feet and started pushing me toward the door.
With each step, I gained a small amount of confidence, every new footfall was like a victory — albeit a small one. By the time I touched the door handle leading to the pool, I was convinced I was going to rock a Speedo, in front of everyone.
The door opened and standing directly in front of me, facing me, no less, was an exceptionally beautiful Italian girl, who I would later find out was my swim coach. As we locked eyes, I felt a mixture of shock, embarrassment and an overall feeling of confusion.
I was completely naked mentally and one well-placed Kleenex from being physically naked as well. But instead of blushing, it actually felt good.
I’m already shy with girls. It was terrifying, yet at the same time exhilarating. I may have even felt liberated.
I found out more about myself in those first 17 minutes in a Speedo than I may have in 17 years of being alive. That unimaginably uncomfortable situation completely disarmed me, it changed me.
So before you die, you need to put yourself in a situation like that. Some people may suggest stand-up comedy or karaoke, but trust me: If you want the real thing, just grab a Speedo and head for the pool.
Ryan Wheeler (rwheeler35@comcast.net) of Parker is a junior at Ponderosa High School.
