My Body Hates Me: Part Deux...uh Deux

Ok...this is more indicative of
my experience...happy??


I’m not sure if my confidence was crushed under my body weight in that spectacular fall or what, but after that my whole day was on a one way trip to Shitsville. I began wiping out at the end of every run and would wig out at the top of hills. My poor friends, God bless them, they tried to help but something was just not right with me (I should probably mention here that though it seems like this was my first go at skiing…I had skied prior to this trip…six times.) At first I was slowly getting the hang of skiing side to side to slow myself down. Now I just hurtled toward the finish line with disastrous results. One particularly messy finale involved one of my skis giving up and exploding off my boot, as I slid on my back at a break neck speed. I remember blinding cold, snow up my shirt, and seeing one of the resort signs and a fence coming at my face. At that moment I thought I would quite possibly crush my head into them, but all I remember thinking was that I really didn’t want to ruin the day for my friends by dying on them. But luckily I just ended up down in a ravine-type thing looking upwards as my friends peered down at me, alarmed. They had graciously picked up my wayward ski…but at that point I had no interest in any more snow fun. Adding insult to injury, I was struggling to crawl out of my makeshift grave. My feelings of disappointment and frustration culminated in rage as I eloquently said (pardon the language) “FUCK THIS SHIT,” and threw my ski and poles. I certainly didn’t want to give up because I like to beat the hell out of myself until I get something right…but I was so blinded by anger that I didn’t care anymore (especially because my friends seemed to be excelling at every turn and were destined for the 2010 Winter Olympics). All that would have made me feel better was a beer…but just at this moment my hang over set in. Yes, you heard me…my Yeungling/Blockus/Uno hangover. As if I needed any more evidence that my body hates me, I tend to get hangovers right after lunch, so there’s really no “sleeping it off” for me. So needless to say I couldn’t stomach any brews.



As the day wore on I asked my friends to please keep having fun without me because I just needed to warm up and dry my shirt which had literally frozen to my back (I’m not kidding, it was like zero degrees without the windchill). I think the most internally humiliating part of the day (besides trying to walk down stairs in ski boots) was sitting in the lodge watching six year olds ski down the black diamond hills. When it was finally time to go I felt and looked like one of those people search and rescue teams discover half frozen in an avalanche. And alarmingly the right side of my face was not responding very quickly to my brain’s commands. My friends laughed when I said I thought maybe I’d had a stroke, but I was really concerned that it was true after I said it.



So there, dear readers, is my latest story of bodily harm. If you think I couldn't possibly do anything more shameful in one short weekend you'd be so incredibly wrong. That night over a lovely dinner my hosts and friends informed me that I had gone sleepwalking the night before, apparently on an epic quest to discover the bathroom. Supposedly I checked to see if there was a toilet in a closet and each bedroom upstairs before discovering the actual bathroom. I was christened with the name "Night Creeper." Awesome huh? Raise your hand if you want to be me!