I’m Too Sexy To Ski

I went skiing once.  Just once.

My cousins invited me on their annual ski trip. My mom, excited about getting her moody teenage daughter out of the house for a week, accepted on my behalf, insisting, “It’ll be good for you.” {Unconvinced squinty}

My aunt had given me her old ski outfit. It was a big, red, puffy onesie circa 1984. Not only was it the single most hideous thing I had ever laid my eyes on, but it was also one size too small. Because hurdling down a mountainside isn’t challenging enough; I needed a perpetual wedgie and overall feeling of discomfort to complete the experience.

As my cousins all took the lift up to the black diamond slope, I slid and wobbled over to the bunny slopes for my lesson. And there he was: my instructor. My hunky, Australian, 20-something ski instructor.

And I was wearing a Santa suit. Perfect.

About this time, I also discovered that when exposed to cold temperatures my nose turns into a leaky faucet. Not only is blowing one’s nose while wearing ski gloves next to impossible, I could barely get the tissues out of my too-tight pocket in time!

As we approached the ski lift, I was flooded with conflicting emotions ranging from joy to dread at the thought of having to talk to this beautiful man in close proximity. It was our turn; here comes the seat. Get ready…OUCH! Damnit! It hit me in the back of the thigh and I lost balance so that one butt cheek was on the seat, while the other hung in limbo. The instructor had to grab me and pull me up the rest of the way.

Ok… ok… ok… don’t freak out. I bet that happens a lot.  Just look at him and smile.

Me: {Trying to smile resulting in a grimace because my goggles and cheeks are in a fight}

Hunky Instructor: Are you alright?

Me: {NO!} Yeah! Totally. {cough}. Sorry, i’m  just nervous. My family is crazy good at all this and i’m…well…my goal is to just stay upright.

Hunky Instructor: {Chuckling} No worries, there’s a first time for — um. {Pointing to my face}

Me: What? {Looking over my shoulder to see what he might be pointing to. A tree, maybe?}

Hunky Instructor: You have… I think you need a tissue?

Me: Oh!!! {KILL ME NOW!}

I frantically tried to pull a tissue out of my pocket, but the gloves couldn’t manage their way into my sausage casing of a ski suit, so I took the glove off and accidentally dropped it down onto the mountainside.

This was not happening to me.

Ugh, I just wanted to get this skiing thing over with.  My first few turns went pretty well, but then I remembered the snotsicle incident. Before I knew what was happening I was barreling down the mountain in a straight line.

I heard people shouting “Turn!” and “Stop!”  Yes, yes. I would like to do all of those things, but I can’t.

I managed to stop by slamming into a fellow skier.  Luckily, no harm came to either of us because my puffy suit absorbed the impact.

The hunky instructor helped me up and guided me the rest of the way down the mountain.  In the end, I scored his digits!! Granted, it was from his business card — but it still counts!

I spent the rest of the trip at the lodge, wearing normal clothes and sipping on hot cocoa. {Bliss}