Making Waves: My First Dive into Pro-Mermaiding

I got it in my head a few years ago that I was going to be a professional mermaid. I bought a starter tail, put an outfit together, and even designed some business cards. 

The problem is, I’m full of great ideas, but often too shy to actually follow through and put myself out there. I did a few volunteer gigs at local pools and community events, but never did much else with this idea... that is, until a friend reached out needing some entertainment for a kid's party. So I landed my first paid booking for a kid’s sixth birthday party!

The experience was challenging, enlightening, and full of ups and downs! And while I’m not sure I’ll be diving back in any time soon, here’s what I learned when I dipped my fin into the world of professional mermaiding:

I literally could not walk

Okay, this may seem obvious when your legs are bound together by a spandex or latex tail, movement becomes somewhat restricted. But I still assumed I’d be able to scoot, hop, shimmy—something. Think again.

I knew the layout of the house where I’d be performing, and I’d been told the master bedroom was right off the pool. Perfect, right? Wrong. It wasn’t a swim-in-swim-out situation—it was a hop, hope, and pray situation.

I felt that watching a fully grown woman hop across a pool deck in a tail would maybe not inspire magic or wonder in six year olds. So I got creative. I went to Goodwill! I was hoping to find an old wheel chair to decorate into a “Mermaid Throne” but no such luck. I did however find one of those medical scooters people use when they’ve injured a leg. It was... something. I wrapped it in shimmery, iridescent fabric from JoAnn’s going-out-of-business sale, glued a few seashells on it, and called it my mermaid-mobile.

I sat on the leg rest like it was my royal mer-chariot but still needed Ki to wheel me out to the pool. I was a mermaid with a mission and a mobility device. It wasn’t ideal, but hey, you work with what you’ve got. 

Unless you are in the pool upon the kids’ arrival and departure, you will absolutely need a “Mermaid Handler,” someone who has the upper body strength to move you around. The last thing you want is to ruin the magic by having to take your tail off in the middle of the party to get from place to place! 

One Shell Of A Story Time

The birthday girl’s mom had picked out the sweetest ocean-themed tiara and necklace for her, and asked me to create a little story time moment to present the gifts while the other kids watched from the pool. Adorable in theory. Slightly overwhelming in execution.

I did my best to project my voice over 20+ squealing six-year-olds and their mildly disinterested parents, while music blared from another part of the backyard. It was chaos. By the end of it, I sounded like a chain-smoking sea witch.

Looking back, it would’ve helped to pause the music, quiet the kids, and maybe even invest in a tiny waterproof mic, but this was a ballin’-on-a-budget mermaid moment, okay?

Despite the noise, the kids had a blast. I had them shout the magic words to “unlock” the seashell which held the necklace, and everyone got to make a wish on the birthday crown. It wasn’t the picture-perfect mermaid tale I imagined, but it was interactive, sparkly, and full of magic in its own loud, wild way.

Critical Kids & Mermaid Logic

For most of the party, I camped out on the pool steps in the shallow end. This let me stay visible to the kids, toss pool rings and toys, chat with the curious ones, and bonus, save my core strength for the actual swimming bit. 

The littlest kids were wide-eyed and gentle, content to sit beside me and admire my swishing tail. They were honestly the best part of the day! Their sweet questions about the sea made my heart swell and we swapped ocean facts, make-believe stories and played games by the steps! The older ones? Not so much. A few tugged on my tail (which hurts, by the way), and I had to lovingly remind them: “Ouch! Be gentle!” all while getting near-zero assistance from nearby parents. 

Some pint-sized skeptics came right up and told me they knew that I was not a “real mermaid.” To which I smiled and asked, “Well, what is a real mermaid?” Cue the mental reset. That’s the sweet spot where you, as the performer, can blur the lines between make-believe and magic. I explained, “Anyone who wants to be a mermaid can be, you just have to believe.” That usually satisfied even the most hardened seven-year-old cynic. 

I fielded some pretty wild questions, too. What do mermaids eat? How do mermaids poop? Can mermaids drown? Luckily, I had rehearsed a few go-to answers, but let me tell you, if you can’t improvise with a pack of six-year-olds, you’re gonna sink fast. 

Mermaids Need OSHA too!

Once I’d spent enough time perched like a very glamorous pool decoration, I knew the older kids would want to see the mermaid swim. I’d discussed this part with the birthday girl’s mom ahead of time, but she’d understandably drifted off to handle other hostess duties.

And here’s the thing: this part can actually be dangerous. You have no idea what the kids’ swimming abilities are, and once you're in the water, they will try to climb you like a mythical jungle gym. If you're not careful, someone could get hurt, including you.

Looking back, I would absolutely make sure all parents of in-pool kids were on deck watching when swim time began. I'd also ensure your “mermaid handler” (in my case, my husband Ki) is ready to act as a lifeguard, setting boundaries with the kids. No touching the mermaid while she swims—period.

Luckily, Ki and I both have water safety and swim instruction backgrounds, so we managed the chaos. If I ever do another party like this, the swim portion will come with strict rules, supervision, and a firm “no-touching the talent” policy. Because mermaiding may be magical, but it’s also a full-contact sport if you’re not careful.

Looks Don’t Last Under The Sea

After my mermaid swimming demonstration, I pulled myself back onto my poolside perch, looking a lot less like an enchanting sea maiden and more like a half-drowned shipwreck victim. My eyes were bloodshot, my hair extensions felt like heavy wet ropes, and it became painfully clear that my waterproof makeup was really only semi-proof.

I did my best to hold it together (glamour fades, commitment to the bit doesn’t), but at one point I actually took my extensions out while underwater, wrapped them in a towel, and handed them off to Ki like some kind of soggy contraband.

Thankfully, I’d taken photos with the kids before entering the pool. Going forward, I think I’d choose one or the other: either an in-water mermaid event or a poolside meet-and-greet. Doing both? A recipe for looking like you swam through a storm drain in false lashes.

Last Splash

Was it the magical, dreamy mermaid debut I’d always imagined? Not exactly. But it was real, memorable, and full of the kind of chaotic joy that only comes from chasing your childhood dreams with a tail, a scooter, and a glue gun. 

Professional mermaiding is no joke. I have genuine adMERation for those in this industry that make it look effortless, because it is anything but! Mermaiding is physically demanding, slightly dangerous, and a true test of improvisation, water safety, and patience (especially with brutally honest six-year-olds). 

But this opportunity also reminded me that even imperfect moments can be full of wonder, especially when you're brave enough to show up in a spandex tail and give it your all. 

Ultimately I think I made an awesome memory for some really sweet kids, and only slightly embarrassed myself. Will I take on another mermaid gig? Maybe one day. But next time, I’ll bring a mic, a dedicated lifeguard, and maybe a throne that rolls a little smoother. 

Until then, I’m keeping the fin, and the magic, close by. 🐚

Sincerely, Madi