I had a pretty good day today. I tried out my thrift shop skis up at Bittersweet. I had to be careful, because I had no idea if the bindings were set for my weight. And the technician was gone. But the skis worked just fine. They are REALLY old school--they don't look anything like the skis in the ski shop up there. The edges are straight, which means turning is a bit more difficult. But they WORKED. For $32.10 (boots, skis, poles and bindings) I couldn't pass them up. Hopefully they will hang together long enough until I can shell out for newer skis.
On the slopes, I caught myself smiling. It's rare that I smile. I am not sure why that is. Even when I'm having a good day, I look like I'm having a bad one. But I was smiling because at that moment, I was happy. I was zipping downhill, and even if I didn't look so graceful, I felt happy because I was probably getting a good workout--better than my usual ones here at home or at the gym. Sometimes I think I'd have a better outlook on life if I had my own ski hill in the backyard and if I had a swimming pool.
I probably should have stayed longer to ski, but the slope I was on felt like it was getting icy. And with my bindings set to who knows where, I didn't want to risk taking a serious fall and not having the skis release. I did fall once. I caught an edge, but I wasn't going fast and it didn't hurt.
I got to thinking a little bit about things while I was at Bittersweet. It was a beautiful sunset. I thought a little bit about the year. I made it into grad school and got an A in both of my classes. I think I was only happy when I was struggling over my papers. So in that sense, it was a successful year.
I also lost a bunch of weight (which I've gained back). I'm not happy about that, but when I stress out, I eat, and the last few weeks of school, I had three projects and three papers due, and I was hitting the potato chips and Pepsi/Coke. I feel bad about that. I feel bad, because I need to conquer my love of junk food, and I don't know if that will happen. At the same time though, I felt happy that I'd lost weight. I thought that wasn't possible. I liked the way my legs felt. I liked having a smaller waist. It also made me realize how much Goddamn salt I consume. That needs to stop.
I haven't really thought about New Year's resolutions. But on the way home from Bittersweet, I thought of something I could do. It's not really positive or nice. I thought I could be bitchy and condescending and disrespectful and rude to men. Why? Well, because for decades, I've tried being nice, considerate, kind, flirty, cool, reserved, shy, coy and myself. Men still look at me like I'm dog poop. And I hate the look on their faces when they have to deal with me. It's the old, "Jesus Christ, do I HAVE to talk to YOU?" look. Yeah, every time I look in the mirror I get depressed too. But buddy, you are not my dream come true either. The older I get the worse it gets, too. Men my age seem to have snow-white hair, or they are grizzled beyond belief. Some of them are way fatter than I am, but I'm STILL not worthy of respect or polite conversation. I'm sick of it. I'm tired of feeling like a literal dog, and wagging my theoretical tail, and being polite and getting those dead stares. So maybe I'll just slowly turn into a Euro-intellectual wannabe. I don't understand the majority of people who live here anyway, so I'll do whatever I can to show them I'm NOT like them. I'll try on a new persona around men--the nose in the air snob. I'll lose weight and try to buy quality clothes as inexpensively as I can. I mean, what the hell? Why not? The "men" around here are not worth pursuing anyway. They don't read, they don't exercise, their stomachs are bigger than mine--why have I wasted so many years worrying about them liking me? I don't ever expect to have a relationship again, but it seems that the foreigners that come into my work get along with me better than the homegrown Hoosier redneck assholes I'm surrounded by.
So yeah, maybe not such a nice New Year's resolution, but fuck it. Being nice hasn't really gotten me anywhere, except shit on, stepped on, pissed on, and taken advantage of. Maybe I'll join the Christian hypocrites and be nasty all week long, then go to Church (Catholic, it's more European) and ask for forgiveness. Speaking of which, Pope Francis is almost making me proud to be Catholic.