hello friends,

i am going to try something a little different. i will still blog about my goings on, but i have been working on some essays and i would like to put them out into the cyber world. please excuse any run on sentences, grammatical errors, made up words or spelling mistakes.

so here is my first one.
i hope you like it.

be well,
ingrid


"OUCH", by me

I am not an athletic girl. I was the score keeper for the girl's softball team in high school to get out of gym class and I took bowling in college and that was enough for me. So when I was asked if I wanted to water ski while visiting my friends Marla and Theo at their upstate New York summer home, my instinct initially was to say "umm...have you seen my paper white skin and atrophying cookie dough like muscles? I'll stay here where it's safe and play sudoku". But as I get older, I am finding that I am becoming bolder. Or at least i want to be become bolder. Maybe its the whole "I'm getting closer to the end of my life and I need to experience things" syndrome. For whatever reason, the word "YES!" popped out frantically, as if putting that word out into the world quickly enough would lock me into this decision. Besides, going back on such a "YES!" would make me seem cowardly and wishy washy. Which I am.

I, in what has been dubbed by friends "my swimming outfit" which consists of shorts and a tankini (essentially a tank top that can get wet without showing too much) and under a fresh coat of spf 70, wrapped my arms around Theo, who sat in front of me. He was, one by one, taking us on his one seater motorboat out to the dock where we could then put on our skis. I clung to him, in a koala-like fashion as if this moment was to be my last. I could feel my heart, like a wind up toy in my chest, tap dancing as the shore and the trees distanced themselves from us. "Am i really going to do this?", I thought. "Am I really going to water ski?". The thought of it made me dig my nails into Theo's tanned back. I remember thinking how my skin was so white against his bronzeness that we looked like a different species of animal.

I pulled my body onto the dock. My heart almost shimmied its way out of my throat but I swallowed hard and it went back in place. There were a few of us standing on the dock now and we all put our life vests on. Everyone seemed so calm, laughing and making jokes and talking about what we going to have for lunch. LUNCH? How could anyone think about lunch at such a time? We all were about to possibly die. I laughed nervously, trying to make my friends think that I was not having serious issues controlling my bowels. Then Camilla, Theo and Marla's EIGHT YEAR OLD slapped on her skis and jumped into the water. She grabbed the handle of the rope that was attached to the motor boat. Camilla then yelled their family cue word to start this whole terrifying process, "HIT IT!". The boat started churning the water underneath and began to growl and move. Camilla rose up, straightened her little legs and floated behind the speeding boat as if she was born being dragged across that water. Her blond hair, pulled back in a tight high pony tail, shone like a golden beacon as they traced the lake. It seemed so easy. If this little teeny thing could do it, I could. My heart beat slowed to that of a small dog. I could feel my fingers again. Next up was my friend Lea. Now I knew Lea to be good at all things athletic so when she yelled "HIT IT!" and the boat peeled off, it was no surprise that she, like Camilla, popped up and skimmed the water with the ease and elegance of a merry go round pony. And it was her first time.

The water felt good. I felt alive. I was bobbing up and down while marla crammed my skis on my feet. I began to think that this might actually be a success. I had difficulty getting my skis in the right position because they kept tangling with each other. At one point, I was locked in a pose where the skis had traveled behind me while my life vest kept my upper body afloat. This caused me to resemble a crooked letter "u" and my confidence in my abilities started to crumble a bit. But with the help of Marla and the cheers from the gaggle of friends weighing down the dock, I was able to bury all feeling of doubt. I imagined myself gliding across the lake, one handed, smiling and waving as I flew by all my friends, their jaws dropped in awe of my swan-like figure and grace. I would hop back onto the dock, kick off my skis and wrestle with some small child, not even acknowledging the applause. I would be so modest. I finally righted myself and was in the ready position - skis squared off with my hips, sticking straight up out of the water, hands firmly gripping the handle. I was ready. "hit it" I squeaked. I sounded like a 12 year old boy going through puberty. "say it like you mean it!" called out Theo. Now, I have never been one for repeating myself with greater enthusiasm when asked to. I did not want to be rude however. And since he was the one pulling me, I figured I would comply. "HIT IT" i yelled, half embarrassed have proud of the volume of my own voice. The boat moaned and sputtered and took off. I had been told that if I needed to stop, just...let...go. just let go. I have difficulty letting go in so many aspects of my life so why should water skiing be any different? And indeed, I did not let go. I did not rise up either. I simply got dragged face first across the lake, my skis flying off of my feet. finally, i released my grip. i choked and coughed and water seemed to pour out of every hole in my head. My face burned and my eyes felt like they had been rubbed with salty sand. "Let's try again!" theo laughed from his throne of boatness, the sun surrounding his head like a halo. I bobbed up and down, dazed at what had just happened. I had totally and completely failed. I could hear everyone cheering for me but it was the kind of cheering that little kids receive when they poop in the toilet. I had to redeem myself. I held onto the motor boat and Theo took us back to the dock where I put back on my skis. "HIT IT!" I screamed this time, not embarrassed or proud, just angry. The boat lurched forward. This time, I let go almost immediately, but not soon enough as I ingested a few ounces of lake water first. One ski had remained on though. This was progress. This was good.

I repeated this process about 7 or 8 more times. Why was I never able to stand up? Was I destined to always be dragged like a limp doll in the bathtub? My face was red in an unhealthy looking way and my chest felt like a large man was sitting on it. My confidence, like a an old sweater, was unravelling all over this lake , but there must have been one thread of it left in tact, because I held up my pointer finger and gurgled the words "one...more....time". I said it just loudly enough for theo to hear me and spin the boat around to pick up my broken body. I had to try one more time. "This is it" I said. Marla, so patient and encouraging, agreed that this was my time, I had worked hard for it. I got in my position. Grabbed the handle. Inhaled through my watery nose and at the top of my lungs, my voice now raw from coughing up water, screamed "HIT. IT. !" Theo pumped the gas and we were off. Amazingly, I was not face down! My head was high, my shoulders were back, all that I had to do was straighten my legs. I looked at my thighs, blindingly white and trembling. I was willing them to move, to straighten. STRAIGHTEN. They would not move. I was basically water skiing, only I was squatting. I was water squatting. I was so proud that I had not lost my balance that I did not want to let go. The pride I felt soon waned as the pain of my under carriage being scraped across the surface of a lake at 25 miles and hour sunk in. It felt invasive and horrible. Water was shooting into me at a rapid speed and I swear, ripping things. I was being torn apart by the lake. I remained in this state of pain and pride for a few moments and then had to let go. My crotch throbbing in the worst possible way and my ass redder than if it had been smacked 100 times by a belt, I was pulled up onto the dock. Marla and Lea wrapped me in a towel and congratulated me for my efforts. It was now time for lunch.

It took about week to feel normal again. The pain left me, the bruises, the broken blood vessels in my eyes faded. But what has not faded is the fact that I tried to do something that I feared. And while I did not succeed fully, I succeeded partially. And thats good enough for me.