The power of the double-dog dare |

The power of the double-dog dare

Heidi Rice
Post Independent
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
Fried Rice

“Have you ever been double-dog dared?” I asked Husband-Head the other day as we both got ready to go to our respective early morning workouts.

“Yeah, one time one of my football buddies dared me to drink a shot out of my shoe if the Packers scored a touchdown from the 50 yard line,” he admitted. “It was either that or play the NFL theme song with my hand under my armpit. But I can’t remember. I think I’d already had a couple of shots out of the shoe. …”

I asked because in my early morning water aerobics class, one of the women had made a dare to another woman.

It started when a woman we’ll call “Gweneviere” started to tell us about the “18-40-60” rule.

“When you’re 18, you care very much about what people think about you,” Gweneviere reported to the class as we all warmed up and bobbed in the water, facing the instructor. “But when you’re in your 40s, you don’t care what anyone thinks about you. And when you’re in your 60s, you realize nobody even cares anything about you!”

We all laughed and nodded our heads in our one-pieces and ponytails.

“So … that means we wouldn’t care what people thought if we wore a bikini to this class,” one woman piped up.

Gweneviere was all over this one.

“OK, I dare you to wear a bikini to the next class,” she challenged as we all continued to bob. “In fact, I DOUBLE-DOG DARE you!”

For those not familiar with a double-dog dare, apparently when a dare has been made and the “daree” has refused, the darer can then raise the stakes by “double-dog daring” the daree – meaning that if the dare is carried out by the daree, then the darer will also perform the task.

For those of us bobbing around in the water, we had now turned around facing away from the instructor and were watching the doggie dare saga unfold. …

“Think there’ll be a cat fight?” I whispered to my girlfriend.

“Of course not!” she hissed back. “It’s a DOUBLE-DOG dare!”

I looked at the woman and politely asked her name.

“Oh no,” she said. “You’re that lady that writes for the newspaper, aren’t you? My name is Lola. Lola Pumpernickel.”

Yes … and Rumpelstiltskin is my name. …

We’d only been in the class for a month, but it has provided an endless opportunity of interesting discussions. The exercises are great, but it really is the early morning exchanges at 6:30 a.m. between 12 women in a pool that is most entertaining.

At one point, the instructor told us about a class she had with several elderly women in it. Apparently, they were all into steamy romance novels.

“One woman began talking about orgasms, and I tried to change the subject,” the instructor relayed as we bobbed around.

So she began talking about an exercise she was demonstrating instead.

“Can you feel it?” she asked the woman.

“Oh no, honey,” the woman answered, not realizing that the subject had been changed. “I haven’t had one in so long I forget what it feels like. …”

Then it was time to exercise with our noodles.

Noodles can be tricky, but they’re really fun, especially when the instructor shows you how to do really cool noodle tricks.

“Let the water in the hole on one side and then blow it out the other side,” she demonstrated.

We were all like a bunch of little prepubescent boys spraying each other with noodle water.

But in the midst of playing with our noodles, sometimes they got away and went to other body parts where they weren’t supposed to.

“I think I just got violated by my noodle!” one woman cried out.

The rest of us were just plain jealous. …

But it was the following class that we were all looking forward to.

“Think she’ll show up in her bikini?” I asked my friend.

“She has to,” my girlfriend replied. “You can’t go back on a double-dog dare. …”

And sure enough. Although five minutes late, Lola Pumpernickel came strolling into the pool area with a great big towel wrapped around her.

She then whipped it off and proudly stepped into the pool as we all catcalled and whistled.

“Cute suit,” I nudged and whispered to my friend. “What brand is it?”

“I think it’s a Laura Karen,” she whispered back.

This, of course, meant that Gweneviere had to reciprocate, which gave me an idea when I got home.

“Honey, why don’t you come to one of our water aerobics classes?” I suggested.

“Absolutely not,” he replied firmly. “You ladies are off your noodles. …”



Heidi Rice is a columnist for the Citizen Telegram Her column appears every Thursday. Visit her web site at to see more columns or purchase her book collection of columns.

Support Local Journalism

Support Local Journalism

Readers around Glenwood Springs and Garfield County make the Post Independent’s work possible. Your financial contribution supports our efforts to deliver quality, locally relevant journalism.

Now more than ever, your support is critical to help us keep our community informed about the evolving coronavirus pandemic and the impact it is having locally. Every contribution, however large or small, will make a difference.

Each donation will be used exclusively for the development and creation of increased news coverage.


Start a dialogue, stay on topic and be civil.
If you don't follow the rules, your comment may be deleted.

User Legend: iconModerator iconTrusted User