As the boat (with me in tow) sustained its unrelenting voyage through the water, I concentrated even more on the instructions I had been given. I analyzed each step and my responses to each of those steps. I willed my body to stand. . . But nothing happened. I continued to stay in the crouched position, with the lake smacking me again and again in its effort to dominate.
They had told me to let go of the rope when I was ready to get back in the boat. Time was passing – and I was still not water skiing (at least not in a way that is considered appropriate in the real world). But I rejected signals from the inhabitants of the boat who were insisting that I surrender. I would not surrender! I could do this!
And then, as my butt slapped over and over and over against the waves, I felt the devastation of my failure – and I felt the ever-increasing sting of raw physical pain in the lower portion of my body.
(Looking back, I can only describe the experience as one – very long – excruciating – douche.)
After what seemed like hours, I had exhausted my body and my resolve. I finally gave up and let go of the rope. I couldn’t believe it! I had failed! I was humiliated. And I prepared myself for the teasing I knew I would receive back in the boat.
The friends were, actually, very kind through the rest of the day and evening as I hobbled around – smarting from the cruel consequences of my unintended lake cleansing. After dinner and conversation at the cabin that evening, we settled down for the sleep that is so welcome following an exhausting day on the lake.
I slept. . . and I dreamed. . . I am sure I must have dreamed all night! Over and over – experiencing my shameful journey through the waves.
The next morning, I declared that I would try again. The others were skeptical (I think they just didn’t want to have to watch all that again), but I insisted – and I persevered in my determination to take on the lake one more time.
I was sure that I had figured out, through my dreams, what I had been doing wrong – and what I needed to fix in order to water ski like a normal, red-blooded, American woman instead of like some alien turtle scrunched up in its shell.
To be continued. . .