At 43 I finally got to live out my childhood fantasy... and it went just swimmingly
SHAKING back my blonde hair, I shimmy to the water’s edge and, with one deft flick of my long pink tail, I glide into the cool blue lagoon below.
I am Ariel from The Little Mermaid – at least for as long as I can hold my breath, anyway.
For, at the age of 43, I can indulge my childhood fantasy and become a mermaid for the day.
Bonkers? Oh yes, entirely, but I am not unusual in my secret proclivity. A generation of women like me has grown up enthralled by mermaids – their beauty, grace and irresistible, feminine allure.
Now, a whole industry has grown out of our fascination. Professional mermaid instructors Lisa Bousted, 44, and daughter Megan, 18, are two of a handful in the UK giving little girls and grown women the chance to grow a tail for the day.
Lisa, who is based in Barnstaple, north Devon, runs Mermaids UK, offering everything from taster sessions to hen parties.
But emulating Ariel is not for the faint-hearted. Professional mermaids are incredible athletes. They boast stomach muscles like rocks and many can hold their breath for over four minutes. I reckon I will manage four seconds before the urge to gulp air consumes me. But first, one has to look the part. I sit on the pool- side where Megan helps me clip my feet into a monofin. Then I pull my pink Lycra tail fabric over it and up my legs.
I feel a momentary sense of panic. Realisation dawns that I can no longer walk and just balancing in the pool will be challenging, let alone performing any mermaid trickery. Lisa takes me through some breathing exercises that she promises will help me spend at least five seconds under water.
First, I have to learn to float on my back, holding on to the side with one hand. Dead easy in a bikini on holiday, but with my fin heavy in the water and no legs to kick, I roll on to one side and panic when I can’t right myself. On the fourth attempt I get the hang of it. And it is one hell of a workout.
Then the real test: undulating like a mermaid on my back across the pool. I feel like the uncoordi- nated fool at the back of an aerobics class, splutt tering and flailing with arms and tail moving in t the wrong directions. Pupils at Lisa’s MerKingd dom are taught other skills in including 360-degree turns a and even ‘dance’ routines. I feel these are beyond m me, but any mermaid worth h her scales to venture be beneath the surface. So, we practise the breathin ing exercises again and un under I go. I forget to count to five as Lisa had taught me me, so desperate am I to get ab above water again. B But finally I manage it! And what what’s more, I do it again at least another 20 times (all in the name of trying to get a decent photo). With each ‘dive’ I feel less frightened and I even manage to open my eyes under water. I’m no Ariel and in the end we concede that the photographer will have to settle for capturing me as a grimacing rather than graceful sea creature. But it’s actually been an uplifting experience in which I’ve started conquering a fear. Being a mermaid is pure escapism, a chance to dip my fin back into the magic and wonder of childhood. It’s easy to see why so many grown women are clamouring to try it.