It started innocently enough; Go rent some boots and skis, layer the clothes, hit the slopes. I mean, I had my hot pink outfit, and this was not my first time. I’ve been skiing since I was 5 years old.
So there I am, I got dressed first, and then got my little boy dressed. For those of you who know, getting a four year old dressed for winter is a sport in itself. My husband offers no help, as he is worse than a girl when he gets ready. So now I am sweaty and frustrated, and by the time we are walking out the door, my husband announces he has to go to the bathroom. So of course my son had to go to the bathroom too, and so we started the whole process over.
One hour later we have dropped the boy off at snow boarding school, and we are ready to go. We decided to start slow for a warm up and got to the chairlift. “What a nice ride”, I thought, “ Short, not too high, the weather is great.” By the time I was halfway down the slope I had to question my sanity. “What was I thinking? I don’t work out. I haven’t been skiing in years. I can’t remember what I had for breakfast…how can I expect my muscles to remember how to move? “
I will tell you this…by the time I got down the hill my legs were screaming at me, and I was debating on how to tell my husband that the money he had spent on my lift ticket was wasted. The good news is I was so busy trying to just make it down the hill without collapsing from exhaustion, or hurting myself really badly, that I had absolutely no time to look think about my big butt. That is, until my husband, (and from here on out I will just call him ‘better than me’ OR btm…to be explained later) took a picture of me. Holy crap.