Busted Blogger Cracks Ass, Friends Roll Eyes
We all know you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and apparently, you can’t teach a middle aged grown ass woman how to snowboard either.
It all started off with the best intentions – a weekend away in Mammoth – but no sooner than you can say EPIC FAIL (a term, which again, is showing my age) I found myself laying backward on an icy ski run, looking up at the sky and thinking “
What the f*ck am I doing??”
I’ve never snowboarded before. I was an avid skier in high school (old lady alert number two!) and have “shredded” my share of double diamonds over a decade ago (this just keeps on getting worse), so I was fairly confident that a day of snowboarding was something I could master. Sadly, it was my ego that got the best of me. After a couple of successful runs down the bunny slope, I attempted to turn from my heel edge to my toe edge (that’s snowboard jargon, makes me sound young right?) when I lost my balance, fell backward, and landed on what felt like a 6” Christian Louboutin stiletto made out of granite. As I lay there wincing in excruciating pain, I heard my instructor call out “Are you ok? Can you move?” Not one to be outdone by my younger classmates, I bit the side of my cheek as hard as I could to keep the tears from streaming down my face and got my broken ass up to try again. As I got up, my knees immediately buckled in searing pain and I knew something was really wrong, but there was no way in hell I was letting that cute Aussie in the black Burton jacket see me cry.
When class was over, Beef Jon and NHF met me and grunted, “Lets take her on another run!!” Apparently, the defeated and pleading look of fear in my eyes was undetectable by two of the least empathetic alphas I know, so up the mountain we went. It was actually quite an amusing scene. As I attempted my “falling leaf” pattern down the icy slope, Beef Jon and NHF would bark at me “Turn now!”, “Watch your edge!”, “Lean backward!”, “Go right … go left… go forward … go backward … “ It was like two really bad actors playing drill Sergeants in
G.I. Jane, and I was Demi Moore without the washboard abs or dyke buzz cut.
That evening, I was in no condition to drink wine or make sexy time … and for anyone who knows me … that is really saying something, especially since it was gay and lesbian weekend in Mammoth and I’m usually drawn to boys town bars like celebrity husbands are to a tattooed skank. I did manage however to finish out the rest of the weekend - the dreaded devil snowboard was traded back in for a fresh pair of skis – and with the help of some extra-strength Aleve I was actually able to tackle a few slopes that didn’t have wimpy sounding names like “ School Yard” , “Easy Rider”, and “Pumpkin”.
Upon returning to San Diego, and being unable to sit/stand/walk/bend over, I visited my Doctor and an x-ray quickly revealed I had a tiny fracture in my lower sacrum above my tailbone. I’d like to say I felt a bit vindicated to all the tools who kept telling me “You’re fine! Suck it up! We’ve all been hurt before”, but I think the most important lesson to remember here is … middle aged grown ass women should stick to what they know. Young men and good shoes.
