I don't mountain bike.
I don't have any desire to mountain bike.
My idea of a good time on a bike involves me in a skirt on my cruiser, eating an ice cream cone. Sometimes I am ringing my little silver bell so that I can safely pass the 80 year old woman walking her teacup poodle.
I told her, "Oh, I think I'll leave the mountain biking to you."
She said, "This would be so good for you. You should toughen up and do it!"
I said, "I don't want to toughen up. If I had an entire week away from my family, a mountain biking camp~ where I would undoubtedly injure myself~ is not what I would choose. If I had a free week I would surround myself with sunshine, pools, masseuses named Sven, a good book and drinks with tiny umbrellas in them. Call me when you want to go to Vegas."
Then she laughed and we both knew that I would never go to that camp with her.
This got me thinking though. Do I need to toughen up? Let's see:
I was raised on a farm and worked like a boy throughout my entire childhood. I was carrying bales of hay that weighed more than I did (See "why Johi has massive back problems") from a young age. I have climbed mountain peaks, rappelled off of buildings and rock faces, ridden horses on steep, slippery slopes and in other places that would make a grown man cry. I can pack a horse, shoot a gun, shoot a bow and arrow, make a campfire, catch a fish, drive four wheeler, drive a tractor, pull a truck and trailer and ride a horse at a dead run. I've traveled cross country alone, run long distances, driven in huge cities and lived alone. I've protected people, stood up for myself and been in bar fights with 200+ pound men who thought that they could play grab ass with me and my friends. Once I even outran a horny old man who pulled his Cadillac onto the sidewalk and chased me down the street. The car had horns tied to the grill, of course. I've downed whiskey, smoked cigarettes (sorry mom), and been called every name in the book from a hick to a snotty bitch (both of those are true, by the way). I've been told I wasn't (you pick something)____ enough, had my hair pulled, my back stabbed, and my confidence in the gutter. I've been so poor that I couldn't afford housing, I've been through a divorce, and I've lived through two abusive relationships with men unworthy of the privilege of oxygen. My morals have been questioned and my character has been lied about. I've been bucked off, stepped on, run over and kicked in the face. I've had three surgeries, birthed two babies, buried people and animals I have loved, held back tears,overcome fears, and lifted myself out of dark places countless times. I think that all constitutes as "tough". I'm not bragging, I'm just saying: Goddammit! I am tired of being tough. I really just want to relax and bake some motherfucking cookies.
Scroll down for Proof of Toughness:
|I think THIS screams, "Watch out!|
That is one tough broad!"
It may also scream,
"OMG! Why doesn't that
cat have any HAIR???"
|Let's not forget THIS.... *flexing... then crying because I |
miss my horse*
|I think THIS whispers, "Watch your back, I'll cut you. Well,|
I'll probably just give you the stink eye..." Yes, I am wearing an apron.
Anyone care to meet me in Vegas? Toughness not required.
Happy Friday to all you tough bitches (and the two bad ass mofo dudes that read this),