Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Insignificant yet life altering traumas: Rappelling

My therapist asked me to print off some of my blog posts for her to read. Yes I said therapist, it's completely normal and I seriously feel everyone and their dog should go to talk to a therapist. It's great. Anyways, she told me to print off a couple things we had talked about so I jump on my blog and start reading my old shit. Holy hell. It's hilarious. What happened? All my old shit seems way funnier than the crap I post now, which according to this year has been nothing. Literally we are almost two months in and I have posted nothing. So here is going back to my roots with another:

Insignificant yet life altering trauma

Back in high school, every so often, the National Guard would stop by to attempt to recruit high school kids by convincing them of all the cool shit you would get to do and giving out "free" lanyards. Sometimes, if you were lucky enough to have PE on that day, you would get to do things like rappel down from the catwalk thing in the gym. This had to have been like my sophomore or junior year because I distinctly remember missing it at least once and being really pissed about it. Anyways, finally the stars aligned and the National Guard was there and I was there and the ropes where there and shit was about to go down. Now I'm super pumped because I had rappelled before, yes at church camp, haters, and it's super fun. So I'm like FUCK YA! LETS DO THIS.

It didn't take me long to realize two things:
1. These National Guard guys are hot and young
2. Everyone is fucking watching so act cool, bitch.

We take the creepy stairs up to the catwalk above the bleachers that are all pushed in and wait in line. So we are waiting in line and I'm trying to look all cool with my no makeup, same zip-up hoodie and jeans ensemble I wore everyday and I probably still had my killer bangs at this point. Take note, when the National Guard came, you did not have to change for gym. So there I am looking like a raggedy ass tomboy trying to make eyes at some buff 20 something year olds. I take off my hoodie and tie in around my waist while I do some hairflips and stretches to make sure they notice how well I'm developing in the chest region.  Finally it's my turn and I'm like AWWWW DAMN. I'm about to ROCK THIS SHIT! I get all strapped up or whatever and they explain everything to me, I'm like "Yeah I got this, I did it at church camp one time. Just saying." So I wink goodbye to Private Tight Ass and down I go until suddenly, WHIPLASH. I'm like halfway down and looking around like "What the fuck?" The guys on the ground are looking up at me like "What the fuck?" The guys above me are looking down like "What the fuck?" EVERYONE in the gym is staring at me like "WHAT THE FUCK?"

I look down and see exactly what the fuck. There, jammed in the carabiner like Dolly Parton stuffed in a sports bra, is part of that god damn grey hooded sweatshirt. I immediately die from embarrassment but am quickly resuscitated when one of the guys says, "Her shirt got stuck!" So I'm fucking dangling there while they try to figure out what to do, mind you this entire time the freaking Bear Grylls survival "harness" made of rope is cutting into all of my parts, giving everyone below a terrific view of what I imagine looked like a walrus caught in a fishing net. Finally they decide that if I can't go down, I've gotta go up. So one of the guys starts pulling me up, oh but my fragile high-school age girl self image apparently weighs too much for this kid so he has to call over someone else to help him. There I am, red with embarrassment, being hoisted up like a basket of snacks to a "No Girls Allowed" treehouse by the little fucking rascals. They might have actually been saying "Heave...Ho.." I couldn't tell you because I was deafened by mortification and blind with rage against the United States government for letting something so terrible happen to me in front of my peers.

I get to the top and do some kind of beached whale flop onto the platform, thinking thank god it's over but no, now they have to get the sweatshirt unstuck because just letting me wear the butt rope and run out of the school was not an option. So I'm standing there as this kid is now wrenching on the sweatshirt which remember is tied around my waist as I involuntarily air hump towards him from his pulling. Finally it gives and I'm just like, 'I'm done. I'm fucking done." I don't even remember what happened next, if I walked back down the stairs, if I took off my sweatshirt and went down, I don't know. Doesn't matter.

And that's my insignificant yet life altering trauma for today. Let this be a lesson to you all, don't trust our government, they only want to destroy you.