Fat don't Fly

Sitting around the family table after the satisfying group effort Birthday meal for my Dad, I was listening to my two sisters discussing a forthcoming ski trip to Salt Lake City.

They were tossing back and forth the various pro's and con's of Utah vrs Colorado. I was only half paying attention, stuffed full of mashed potatoes and grilled chicken. Adrift in the warm feeling that accompanies being satisfied and among those you love the most in the world.

Through this blanket of contentment I thought I heard my sister Omega say to me, "Why don't you come along too?"

I immediately had a flash back to several years ago when I signed up for some elementary beginning ski lessons at Paoli Peaks.

It was all bad.

I had dressed as if I were heading to the Artic. Granted it was very cold, in single digits, so my outfit was warranted. I had bought ski pants, ski socks and ski gloves. I had on long underwear and blue jeans under the pants. I was layered with long sleeved t-shirt, blouse, my wool Irish Fisherman sweater and topped off with a wind-weather-water proof jacket. I was not going to get cold.

In short time, the sweat was pouring off of me.

First off, I put those boots on and stood up and.....could not walk! How the hell are you suppose to walk in these things!! I watched some little kid do this spastic kind of shuffle and I did the same. I did it as long as I could to avoid putting on the skis.

Eventuality I had to.

Our instructor made us walk up the hill sideways. He made us fall down on the frozen snow to teach up to get ourselves up. He took our poles away!! He made us hold on to a rope and haul our asses up to the top of the bunny hill. Then, we skied down. Or tried to, with the tips of our skis pointed towards each other to learn speed control.

Mine kept crossing each other and I could not stop once I reached the bottom of the hill, The instructor had to catch me every time.

I was sweating a river under all those clothes due to the relentless and unforgiving physical activity.

When were finally given our poles, I flung myself down the hill with my two weapons flaying around like windmills as I screamed with terror and exhilaration.

They were taken away from me again.

I finally fell down and hyper-extended my thumb. (It took forever to heal).

When I finished my time travel back in time,I was looking at my sister with an expression that registered somewhere between, "Do you want to kill me" and "You must be kidding".

I finally answered, "Fat don't fly".

"Not Ski Jump, you big baby!........."

She painted a cozier picture than what I experienced at Paoli. She will not ski either because she can't (hmmmmmmmm, knees?) but she is going to read a lot, hang our at the bars and learn to ice skate, go swimming every night and chill out in the hot tubs.

I'm tempted.