A "Trip" -- In More Ways than One

I’m not sure if this is a suburban myth, but I’ve heard and told it enough that I’m thinking it’s true.

Sometime in the early 1980s, a middle-aged man, new to skiing, decided to try on his fancy new down hill outfit at home. He zipped up his flashy one-piece, popped on his new hat and goggles, and then decided to take it up a notch: he slid into his boots and snapped into his skis.

While admiring his winter look in a full-length mirror, and presumably practicing a turn or two, he lost his balance and toppled to the floor, breaking his leg in one humiliating snap. Somehow he managed to drag his body, skis still attached, to a telephone where he was able to make a call for help.

He never made it to the slopes that year.

When my parents first started telling this story, New England skiing was changing. The navy blue and forest green ski jackets were starting to be replaced with snazzier versions: hot purples, yellows, and other hot colors were splashed across fabric Jackson Pollack-style. There was a note of Yankee smugness in their voices when they told the tale of this poor, broken-legged man, and it wasn’t lost on me.

While trying on high-heels in my own bedroom the other day, I thought of the guy in the skis and I worried: what if I wobbled a bit too much and landed in a heap just like him?

It could very easily happen. I am not exactly a graceful swan gliding with ease in shoes like that. I imagined having to explain it to the dispatcher on the other end of the line --  “Um, well, you see, I was testing out some new shoes and...” I knew I would never hear the end of it from friends and family.

So, I tread carefully, because I had to.

My husband and I are going on a very long overdue anniversary/Valentine’s day weekend, and since we won’t have kids in tow, we’ll be dining in the kinds of places that don’t have chicken fingers on the menu.

The dress code for him is easy: jacket, button-down shirt and boom, he’s done. As for me, not only am I risking life and limb in high heels, I am also zipping into dress after dress, debating the difference between opaque and sheer stockings, and trying to find the proper style balance between Middle Aged Suburban Mom and Kim Kardashian.

It’s not easy.

While I won’t be putting skis on inside (though, truth be told, I did once in my early twenties, but that’s another story entirely), I understand what that man was doing. Like him, I’m heading off on a wintery adventure, and like him, I have to test-run my armor. We’re both novices, and it’s a slippery slope between looking like you know what you’re doing and becoming the butt of a joke.

Wish me luck -- and balance!