Parents hate their children. They bring their offspring to the swimming pool with the intent and hope that they will drown. I know this because no parent who actually even cared about their child would leave them unattended while they fall beneath the surface, hang on bars, run on deck, and venture off into the blue depths lacking any knowledge of how to even stay above water. It is sobering when I have more concern for a child than the ones who possess the loins from whence they came.
I have also learned that I will never, ever in my life get a tattoo. I don't care how good it looks on a taught young body, tattoos almost never age gracefully. Middle aged pool-goers who have let themselves go (probably a result of their demon kids) with limbs and torsos splashed with tawdry images of skulls and flowers and other meaningless "artworks" that have become morphed and deformed with the unavoidable effects of aging skin provide for an unsightly picture. Some people (a minute group) can pull off the inked look for generations to come; I, however, am not one of them, and have chosen to learn from the mistakes of others.
Which brings me to the bathing suit issue. If you weigh 250 at 5'5 and you feel comfortable in a bikini, power to you. The problem is the others around you are not comfortable with this life decision. And by others I mean myself, because on an elevated stand I see for more than I'm generally ok with. To quote a man with a firm grasp on many concepts, P.G. Wodehouse, "(they) look as if they had been poured into (their suits) and forgot to say when." Its appalling. Where is the shame? The decency?
There's more, but I would now rather write about things I hate about UNLV.