My very first skiing adventure is looming on the horizon.
Picture a young child walking slowly out onto the high-dive board - each step shaky, uncertain, petrified. That's me. Skiing I am fine with, but fear of injury wraps its slimy octopus tentacles around my brain thanks to the residual knee-weakness my gymnastics days left with me. Alas, I've saved my Christmas cash and the other night my beau took me to a local outlet center to purchase snow clothes for the first time in twenty years.
You would have gone nuts if you'd have been there. Rob kept asking me how something looked or felt and my only response was, "I don't know how it is supposed to look. I don't know how it is supposed to feel. You tell me."
He brought me a pair of pants he thought looked about my size and my eyes bulged out of my head when I saw the size on them, only for him to quickly tell me he'd pulled them from the kids' section. Panic attack averted, cool white kids snow pants purchased.
Earlier that morning, my dentist gave me a variety of toothbrushes to experiment with that may be more appropriate for my mouth-size. Included designs? Tigger and the orange Power Ranger.
I will take this as a sign from the universe that I am a big kid at heart and ready for my inaugural snow bunny adventure.
Wish me luck!