Ski Virgin to Snow Bunny

So item #31 was accomplished this past weekend...one I was VERY excited about: Go skiing or snowboarding.

Let me preface this post by saying, I am a winter weather conundrum. The last time I was able to "play" in snow was my first vacation ever: Denver, Colorado in December, 1986 - when I was 6 months old. Let me tell you I was the cutest little thing west of the Mississippi bundled up in layers upon layers of snow gear, not to mention this Florida baby loved snow.

Fast forward to present day. I have been to Chicago twice during the winter, to Iowa countless times between November and March, and was one of the last flights out of Atlanta before "Snowmageddon" hit in 2010. Much to my dismay I have yet to see snow, unless it's been melting on the ground. Not once has a little snowflake fallen in my presence. Never have I had the chance to have a snowball fight or make a snowman. Tragic, I know. So obviously, I have never been skiing. Until now.

This past weekend, I set out for Boone, North Carolina with my boyfriend, his bro, his bro's girlfriend, his bro's girlfriend's brother, his bro's girlfriend's brother's girlfriend....shit that's annoying...it was 8 of us all together in the cutest little cabin on a hill. We were roughly 5-7 minutes from Beech Mountain, which is where we hit the slopes. The man at the ski shop where we rented equipment claimed me "The Ski Virgin", which I'm sure he got off to later. Gross. I was fitted for my boots, ski's, and handed some poles and we were on the way.

It was obvious. I was going to dominate skiing. It requires athleticism, balance, coordination, and self-confidence....luckily I have all of the above. I was going to be a ski bunny badass in no time (self-confidence or cockiness - I can't tell?).

My patient, loving, kind snowboarder boyfriend spent the better part of the morning telling me that I needed to pizza more and make my "S" bigger. Unfortunately, I was having a Derek Zoolander dilemma: I couldn't turn right. It wasn't until his (also) snowboarder brother told me I needed to move my hips more that I really got going. I took a nasty spill the first run down. He thought I twisted my ankle when in fact my wrist doubled in size. That didn't stop me. I became very familiar with the snow bank on the left side of the mountain. It was my safety net. Literally. This is where I plowed into on more than one occasion. I got going too fast and instead of pizza-ing to slow myself down, I decided to just go ahead and veer left quickly and slide on my side to stop. I hated getting up so I decided to suck it up and slow down the correct way.

Another thing you should know about me. I'm competitive. Almost to a fault. Idols include: Violet Beauregarde ("Well you should care, because I'm the girl who's gonna win the special prize at the end"), Ricky Bobby ("If ya ain't first - you're last"), and Tonya Harding. Just kidding on the last one - she's cray.

So after a bit of warming up I was ready to go. I beat my boyfriend in a race down the mountain. Not saying I was faster or anything....he was probably just letting me win/boosting my ego. What a good man. I left the trip, the best skier in our group. Okay, you caught me. I was the only skier ..the rest did snowboarding. But there were 2 others who never hit the slopes before, and I was clearly the best out of that group.

As it turns out, in a matter of 24 hours I went from Ski Virgin to Snow Bunny. From my experience on the mountain, I took away no broken bones, bruises, or bumps...only mad ski skills. Or another way to put it,  I shredded that mountain y'all. Next stop: Whistler. Oh wait, I'm not suicidal...I think I'll stick to mediocre East Coast slopes for now.

Until next time,

L