The Biff

So waterskiing is all about precision and balance. Great. I learned that watching a video online. But all this stupid video watching and research is all for naught because it was done far too late to help me avoid a serious sphincter injury that nearly ruined my entire life.

Put lifejacket on. Dive in. Slide feet in rubbery boot thingies. Sit back in 'rocking chair position' with skis pointed towards the sky. Ready.

** NOTE - 'rocking chair position' returns again later in the story. Very important to note this.

After three wobbly attempts to get up onto my skis, I knew it was just within reach. If only I could stand up. I reviewed all the tips I'd heard all morning as the boat begins to pull ahead. I feel it this time. As smooth as butter, I pop out of the water. The exhiliration crackles through my body. And it's this moment that I realize I wasn't briefed on how to stop. Hindsight tells me, "Let go of the rope."

I tip forward a bit and then overcorrect... but I was determined not to fall. Yet. So, I reason, in my present state of unbalance, that rocking chair position is probably a really stable position to get myself up to standing again. So I settle butt back to get ready to stand again. I neglected to remember that I'm going at least 87 miles per hour at this point. This occurs to me as I feel the lake slice through my innards. I let go of the rope as I feel my entire digestive system explode out of my butt, leaving a long trail of stomach, pancreas, and intestines trailing behind me like the tail of a kite. Okay. That's a fabrication. An embellishment.

I climb back into the boat and I won't go into greater detail at this point. Let's just say they don't make bandaids for that kind of an injury. My poor sphincter was probably the size of a football for five excruciatingly long seconds. Youch.

To add to the story, this was within the first 12 hours of meeting Adam's parents. And I spent the next few hours helping the family move 20 tons of rock. Not an embellishment.

I love the lake house.