When I was 11 my mother tricked me into skiing a black diamond slope during a vacation in Vermont. The slope’s name was Bittersweet and I was positively terrified. Like, sobbing scared.
Naturally, I threw a tantrum of such monumental proportions until I had no choice but to heave myself helplessly off the
top of the hill CLIFFS EDGE.
I wish I could say I made that slope my biatch – but I didn’t. I bit the
dust snow not even halfway down, popped off my skis, and cursed my mother (out loud) the entire walk down. People were looking at me like, “whose demon child is this??”
1) I was a brat. 2) This girl basically makes 11 year-old me feel like a huge sissy pants.
Don’t let today be your Bittersweet. Make Monday your biatch!