Wintertime Fun

While driving home after lunch with a couple work friends, I saw some kids attempting to make a tiny mound a sledding hill. They appeared to be having loads of fun. It’s funny how, when you’re a kid, anything that makes even the tiniest bit of a slope, instantly becomes fun. Like, regular, level ground is dumb, but if you can roll in a downward direction, even for just a second, it’s the.best.thing.ever.

Hell, even just yourself and a substantial hill makes for a good time. You know what I mean, and if you don’t, I’m sorry, your childhood must have sucked. 

Image courtesy of someecards.com

This quick, drive-by snapshot reminded me of a time I thought sledding was a good time. It also recalled a time I must have had shit for brains because there was zero thought involved in any decision made that night. 

Let me share with you why, today, I won’t go sledding. I won’t go, even for a cupcake. I won’t. Just no. 

One winter, years ago, when I lived in little ol’ Elko, Nevada, it snowed absolute buckets. I have a post planned about my city girl adjustment to a little cow town, where it snowed for longer than 5 minutes, and it was so cold your snot froze in your nose the second you stepped outside. This little city slicker wasn’t prepared for country living, that’s for sure. But, that’s for another time. 

Well, there was this hill. It was the renowned sledding hill. It also wasn’t for amateurs, pregnant women, or children under 5. This hill meant bizzness. 

Now, before I go on, I have to explain that I’m the biggest, most unadventurous wimp you ever did meet. Roller coasters make me nauseous. I almost crapped my pants (like seriously) the first (and last) time I rode on the back of a dirt bike. I cling to my oversized flotation device, praying I don’t die in speed boats. I white knuckle it when I have to cross major intersections on my bike. I’m a dweeb when it comes to adventure sports, in that 10 times out of 10, I’ll wholeheartedly pass. 

My time in Elko must have been spent certifiably insanely bored, because not only did I go sledding, it was my brilliant idea. 

My boyfriend at the time, a friend, and I decided to go at night, so that the hill wouldn’t be crammed with snot-nosed middle-schoolers. We also decided at night no one would see the overweight idiots on too-small sleds. 

Because everything I do must be a production, I had to wear my cutest knock-off Uggs, furiest ironically-ugly-hat, most stylish gloves, and my skull leggings. I was still too young and stupid to realize that snow was cold, and that fashion doesn’t matter when it’s -2 degrees. 
 

Image courtesy of qtpiekelso via Polyvore

 

While, this is a very cute outfit (and likely almost the exact one I wore), it is not what you wear sledding in Arctic conditions.

I had precisely one good trip down the hill, the first attempt. It was stupid fun. After that, it all went downhill, literally. 

Because I chose to wear my “cute Uggs”, and not the sensible boots my boyfriend’s mom offered me, I had zero traction getting up the hill. If you don’t know, Uggs and many others like them, have very little tread, as in none. So, I looked like a hefty hamster in a wheel. I was definitely moving, but going absolutely nowhere. 

It was pissing me off. My boyfriend and friend had gone up and down the hill numerous times, laughing like fools at all their fun, and there I was clinging to an exposed branch, halfway up the hill, praying I wouldn’t face plant again. 

I had had it. 

The next time my friend came by me, trailing her sled behind her, I made her privvy to my plan to get myself up the hill. She was hesitant at first, but agreed after feeling a sudden pity for the girl who was still not back up the hill 20 minutes later. Besides, if it all went crashing and burning, it wouldn’t be her hurting. 

So, I steadied one foot, then knee into her sled, while praying the other foot wouldn’t go rogue. 

See, my plan was to have my poor, weak, 5-foot-tall, diabetic friend pull.me.up.the.hill. Herself.

My boyfriend must have been off fucking some sagebrush, because why he wasn’t my first choice, I’ll never know. 

Obviously, the second I got my other leg into the sled, and allowed all of my weight to settle firmly into the plastic vehicle of death, she let go. How in fucks sake I ever thought she could hold my obese self in a sled with a measly rope, makes me question my intelligence. 

So, there I went. 

Careening, hurtling, literally flying down the hill. Backwards. 

Now, what I haven’t mentioned yet, because I haven’t even gotten to the part where I got to even fucking sled, is that the snow was so packed down due the traffic on the hill that it was hard as a rock. Due to the frigid temps, it was also pure ice. For future reference, there’s a very real, credible reason most people don’t sled at night. 

Back to my terrifying trip to my eventual death. 

I was screaming down an ice hill. BACKWARDS. 

As if that wasn’t enough, I was heading straight for the jump. Yes, a jump. On my best, most adventurous, wearing-all-the-padding-and-protective-equipment-in-broad daylight-day, I would not have even let going off that jump ever, ever cross my mind. And there I was, going probably 200 MPH, backwards, speedily advancing on that death trap. 

I think, in my near shock-induced stupor, I faintly recall hearing my boyfriend and friend yelling, “Fall off! Fall off, ya dummy!” 

Well, there was no time to do that, as I caught impressive air when I hit that sweet spot. It was all ass-in-the-air-red-butt-crack-flapping-in-the-wind-snot-flying-fuzzy-hat-peace-ing-out ridiculousness.

Obviously, I survived my harrowing trip over the jump. Barely. On the other end? Soft snow? A soft, dying patch of grass? A gymnast’s pad left by a concerned parent? No. Shit no. Dirt. Frozen ground. I hit like an obese blow up doll filled with marbles. 

Friend and boyfriend came running, concern mixed with laughing. Assholes. 

Why didn’t you roll off? 

I had exactly 2 seconds to realize what was happening, excuse me if I’m not Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible. 

Aside from scrapes, a few bruised ribs, and an even more damaged ego, I emerged fairly uharmed. 

I’m actually pretty impressed with the air I caught. Tony Hawk would be jealous. I guess there are some positives to being fat-greater momentum! 

Weeeeeeeeeee

About right

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Author: fattymccupcakes

Just a thirty-something girl trying to love herself the way she is: fat, rolls, cellulite, and fabulousness.

48 thoughts on “Wintertime Fun”

  1. Oh gosh, my husband is snoring next to me in bed and I have been shaking the bed trying to laugh quietly. HA, HA, HA and NLOL. I was previously a hill climber so UGGs, really? Happy New Year and keep us laughing in 2016. I am still laughing about your Christmas onesie…

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Whoa! I completely empathize with you. Who has the presence of mind to bail out right before the jump!?! I don’t have fight or flight, I have panicked monkey clap. So I too would have taken the frozen ride into the ditch.
    Where I grew up there was no snow so we made our own sliding danger by getting dry ice and sliding down golf course hills on dry ice cubes. Which resulted in me face planting/landscaping with my agape mouth 90% of the time. There is no heroism in sliding down a hill, only potential embarrassment.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. LOL! You slid down hills on dry ice cubes?? That’s impressive AND resourceful! I don’t think I knew what dry ice was when I was a kid, nor how to get my hands on some to do stupid shit with! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜­

      Like

  3. I grew up not far from a place where they’d cut blocks off the lake and line them up, putting 12 people on a wooden sled to go flying down the hillside. FOR FUN. http://www.eaglesmeretobogganslide.com/

    Also, our high school was on top of a ginormous hill….casts were part of the winter wardrobe. (Older post alert: http://carrotsinmycarryon.com/2015/05/08/burying-my-inner-athlete/)

    Love this and saw MANY an epic human yard sale at the bottom of the death slope.

    Also we lived across the street from an industrial plant….we sent my sister down the hill, promising to catch her – she of course flew past my brother, over the plow pile ON THE STREET and into the road where the 18-wheelers pull in. FUN TIMES.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. OH MY!!! Sledding is hazardous to your health, for sure! The story of your sister’s trip reminds me of a time I went sledding with my very first boyfriend (the one who took me on my porta potty trip https://fattymccupcakes.wordpress.com/2015/06/07/porta-poop/and almost killed me on a dirt bike). Him, and my friend’s boyfriend, a football player (so, two macho men) decided they should ride a sled together, since their massive muscle weight would make them fly. I wish you could have seen those two huge idiots flying into a frozen river, grasping on to each other for dear life. That image is what got me through that break up. Good times.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. You and your writing are completely gorgeous. I confess to a bit of laughter but I’ve had similar experiences enough to hate sledding and dread the roller coaster. Honestly I’ve been celebrating every time a winter storm turned into rain this year, and every time several inch predictions turned out as just 1 inch. My sister ruined the sled into a tree, I had several near death experiences on plastic discs travelling nearly 200MPH, snow in the boots, iced snot, wet and then frozen layers of pants and underpants. I grew up in Northern Indiana. I now prefer to shorten it to: “No. In.” Thank you for writing and sharing the experience. Fun to read, from here inside.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. 1994, a dozen or so 20-somethings, several giant inner tubes and a few sleds, two botas, one filled with hot cocoa and Hot Damn schnapps, the other filled with hot cocoa and peppermint schnapps, an immense hill in the Colorado foothills that ended at a barbed wire fence, 11 degrees Fahrenheit, dead of night. Oh, hell, yes, there was a ramp; I took second prize for air time.

    Indeed, there was even a whiny, heavily-made-up girlfriend-of-somebody-or-other who dressed in high fashion and low warmth who complained like a Grand Canyon pack mule the entire goddamned time. I seem to recall a few death threats circulating.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. All in all, it was far less traumatic than some of the guys I’ve dated.

        Incidentally, tomorrow I’ve organized a hike in 15-degree windchill, post-snowpocalypse weather. I’ll bet you a pound of bacon I’m the only one who shows. More bacon for me.

        Liked by 1 person

  6. Bahahaha this was so hilarious and tragic at the same time!!! I would totally have chosen fashion over winter comfort too lol. This reminds me of a moment of similar brilliance that my best friend and I had growing up. We were about ten, and it had snowed enough for some white trash sledding (in the south no one owned proper sleds, so we used a garbage can lid turned upside down). We had the BRILLIANT idea to use one of our neighbor’s driveways, as it was a steeply sloped drive. Steep hill, great sledding, right? Wrong. We totally ignored the fact that there was a PARKED CAR on the street directly across from the driveway. So here we are, me, my best friend, and her little brother, crammed like sardines onto a ghetto trash can lid, sliding down the hill and crashing straight into a parked car. My friend broke her leg, and her brother and I were pretty banged up too. Lol we learned our sledding lesson though!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I had to stop reading this post in the middle from laughing to much in the middle of a open space office. Colleagues are now looking at me weird – I was the one with the funny accent, I’m now the one with weird laugh I’m sur eof it. I will save this and read it later in the comfort of my home, where I can laugh to tears… You are a very, very good writer!

    Liked by 1 person

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