When I was growing up, summer vacations were usually spent visiting family in Panama City, Florida. To mix things up, we’d often stop at a fun tourist site along the way. The year I remember most vividly happened when I was about seven and we went to Weeki Wachee Springs. It’s there where I discovered you could be a professional mermaid.

First, I had no idea that mermaid was a career option! Second, I immediately envisioned my future, gliding through water with long flowing hair, a seashell-shaped top, glittery tail, and tons of adoring fans in the viewing area, blowing kisses my way.

There was a slight problem. I didn’t like to get my face wet. Also, you have be willing to open your eyes underwater. I had tried this once in the bathtub, and it was traumatizing. In the moment, I was pretty sure I had just gone blind. None of the mermaids were wearing goggles.

It took me a while, but I eventually came to the sad realization that my physical limitations would likely preclude me from this dream job, and I moved onto other career ambitions, like Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, then (a big pivot) pharmacist, and finally landing on writer.

Still, a Weeki Wachee Mermaid lived inside of me.

I reconnected with her the year we moved into a house with a pool. I was 13 and spent all my free time in the water, practicing somersaults (holding my nose and keeping my eyes closed, of course), back dolphins (I may have made up this name), and freestyle swim dancing. I briefly considered the sport of synchronized swimming until I noticed that they didn’t wear goggles either.

We lived in that house for only a year, and by the time I had regular access to a pool again, I was a mom with kids to lifeguard. My inner water nymph would have to wait a very long time to reawaken.

A friend who knew I was headed to Paris recommended Spa Clemens for their Watsu massage. If you’re not familiar, Watsu—which is a blend of the words “water” and “Shiatsu”—is a form of aquatic bodywork therapy. Here’s the description from their site: “Enjoy a unique experience of letting go in a heated freshwater pool in our 18th-century vaulted cellars lit by candles. Lying on the water and kept afloat thanks to floats and cushions, your mind escapes into an incomparable letting go.”

Incomparable letting go in an 18th-century candle-lit vaulted Parisian cellar? How could I pass this up? I quickly made a reservation.

Let’s just say the experience was one I’ll never forget. It takes place in a pool of chest-deep water, where a massage therapist supports you by resting your head on her arm. She puts tiny life jackets on your calves so your legs float. Then she gently twists you, cradles you, stretches your arms and legs, and massages your pressure points. You relax your body and literally go with the flow, swirling around in a feeling of weightlessness

At first, Watsu reminded me of playing Motorboat, Motorboat with my kids in the pool, only you’re stuck on the “go so slow” speed. But then, the essence of my mermaid-self started to bubble up. I was gliding on the water as if I was part of the water. Was this what it was like to be a Weeki Wachee Mermaid?

When the Watsu massage was over, the first thing I thought was, “WOW!” Quickly followed by, “What in the hell just happened?” And then I laughed and laughed and went to lunch at Angelina and enjoyed the best burrata and tomato salad ever.

When I told my sister about the experience, she alerted me to a documentary on Netflix called “Merpeople.” (She is a documentary aficionado.) Let’s just say being a professional mermaid isn’t smooth sailing. And my massage experience was not at all what it’s like to be a Weeki Wachee Mermaid.

I learned that at Weeki Wachee, the mermaids enter the water through a giant tube. Air tanks and hoses are available along the way and in various spots in the springs. I’m pretty sure I would have choked. Possibly drowned. I’m uncoordinated that way. Weeki Wachee is unique in that it’s done in a natural spring. Most professional mermaids perform in tanks filled with cold water, which can lead to hypothermia. Those don’t have air hoses. Merpeople hold their breath for an average of four minutes, then return to the surface for air. Four minutes?? I feel like I’m going to faint when the mammogram technician tells me to hold my breath for 10 seconds.

There are also hazards to being a mermaid. Like frequent ear and sinus infections. And you have to either flop around to get into the pool or ask someone to carry you by wagon because … no legs.

All of this was very under-water eye opening, and it’s probably good that I didn’t pursue this career route. That said, it felt magical to remember Little Mermaid Stephanie and her sparkly dreams and to be a Weeki Watsu Wachee Mermaid (say that three times fast) for a moment in time.

What were some of the unique occupations you once envisioned becoming? How can you recreate that dream?