Who wants my jellyfish?
I'm not sellyfish!"
Hmmm... no offense, Ogden, but I think I can do better than that.
with your long stringy arms
your gelatinous body,
so short on charms
your thoughtless mind,
your sucking fingers
your sting that burns like heck,
your bulbous looks
like peeled-back brain,
you act aloof
then inject your pain,
oh Jellyfish, jellyfish,
through my hands you flutter,
can't you please ditch me
for the peanutbutter?
Hmmm, okay, maybe not.
But, now, the lions mane are out too, and during this morning's swim, my friend Evelyn got stung by one. A MERE 20 feet from me. And she's the second victim this season.
Er. Okay then. But we all know that jellyfish are like cockroaches: once you see one, you can be sure there are hundreds you can't see.
Then again, after the initial pain and creep out, she was fine, and we all kept on swimming at her behest, so why is it that I spent the rest of my swim panicking and periodically jerking up out of the water to shriek like a girl?
What is it about jellyfish that elicit such fear in me?
Is it their long gelatinous bodies without faces? Or the slippery way they flutter as they catch in my fingers? What is it about them that has me slathering on $13/bottle Seasafe lotion that promises to deter them, and ordering a $79 Ecostinger long sleeved, full body swimsuit that promises to detract? Because, it's not their sting itself, since I have now been with two swimmers who have been stung and then been quickly fine enough to carry on.
Nope. It's just definitely the freak out factor. The fear of being accosted by some slimy, faceless alien from the deep.
I've got step one underway: the Jellyfish Jam. So turn the music up and dance it with me. Come on, you know you want to: