I have always been deathly afraid of sharks.

My family used to go to the beach in the summer when we were kids, and although I loved it, I never went out too deep in the ocean. Salt water in the eyes used to get me, and then, there were the you-know-whats. I happily morphed from sand castles to sun tanning, safely on dry land.

In later years, though, when my sister and I were teenagers, we’d go water skiing in the back waters. Still salt water, but not out in the ocean.  It was fun.  No sharks.  

There were jelly fish, however, and once, one got down my bathing suit when I let go the rope and was swimming back to the boat.  And let me tell you, it hurt!  The guys we were skiing with – native islanders - just said, “rub sand on it.”  Uh huh.

Fortunately, in all those years at the beach, I never encountered a shark.  I was talked into seeing Jaws, one time, which was a big mistake.  Had nightmares for years afterwards.

As an adult, I have enjoyed and much prefer the cool safety of lakes.  So, sharks are no more my greatest fear, although I do not like them or feel sorry for them. 

There are different things now, that I dread for fear of being embarrassed such as forgetting my point when talking with a group of people, or having to introduce someone I just met and blanking on their name, memory stuff. 

And then there's breaking a hip or something and being immobile and dependent—that is truly my GF – even more than … putting on a bathing suit.