Esther Williams

Widowhood had done nothing to curb my smart mouth. So much for diplomacy.

I took a job at the pool in order to earn the five cents a day it cost to swim. I counted wet towels. As a bonus, I was allowed to swim during lunchtime.

The newspapers loved pinup pictures of pretty young swimmers, and as a national champion, I got more than my share of space in the sports pages.

Somehow I kept my head above water. I relied on the discipline, character, and strength that I had started to develop as that little girl in her first swimming pool.

Even though I had a lucrative contract with MGM, I had a husband who was drinking and gambling our money away faster than I could make it.

Clark Gable was the first to have called me a mermaid.

I took my daily swim at the Beverly Hills Hotel pool despite the presence of onlookers.

Once I married Fernando, I became invisible.

It appeared as if I had invited the audience into the water with me, and it conveyed the sensation that being in there was absolutely delicious.

Marriage to Fernando offered shelter and security, but the shackle was the price I'd pay.

Everything about my teenage life was almost ideal.

With two little boys in diapers, I had to keep it simple if I were going to have a life at all.