Life at the YMCA

I had the opportunity to escort Anson Bishop to the Y for his swimming lesson yesterday. Of course Anson was excited to go swimming, the boy is a fish. Well, the two of us walked into the dressing room and were confronted by a most unexpected site. Sitting on the bench was the largest man I had ever seen. By the look on Anson's face, I think he felt the same. I don't want to be cruel, but my heaven's, there were acres of naked flesh before our eyes. I tried not to stare. Really. I did not want that sight seared into my brain. No matter how hard I focused on the floor, the ceiling, anywhere, my eyes were drawn back to this view of, well, blubber. It was like a train wreck...you don't want to look at the carnage, but you have to. Did I mention we had the back view? Anyway, Anson continued to stare in fascination as the man hefted himself off the bench - remember, back view - to begin dressing. Anson, still staring, pointed at the man and stated in his quiet voice that, no matter how quiet, reverberated through the room "Grandpa, big bottom, big bottom, Grandpa". I made an attempt to shush him, but to no avail. Again, "Grandpa big bottom", then pointing to his own backside said "Little bottom". I was desperately trying not to laugh. The boy did make an excellent comparison. I hurriedly got Anson and his "little bottom" dressed and out to the pool. As Paul Harvey would say, "And now the rest of the story..." cannot be shared. My insurance won't cover the expense of intense counseling for the unsuspecting innocents that may read this...