Why does everyone assume I am someone's mother when I show up at the rink. Or someone's (GASP!!) grandmother (I'm not that old!) or someone's nanny. Oh the joys of being an African-American woman in the snotty world of figure skating! To be fair, in the neighborhood I live in, people in my building think I'm the home health aid of the woman in 2G.
I believe I told one woman three times in two sessions that I do not have any children; I actually don't like children. Most kids I have met are obnoxious, whinny, cry-baby pains in the ass. And if one more person tells me I'll feel different about my own kids, I may kick them in the ass. But, I digress...
I had a pretty decent session on Sunday. Not sure if it's because I had on enough deep heat to stop a large truck (and it was pretty warm on Sunday) or because I decided to skate the early session, but it wasn't that bad.
I may never go to the Olympics, but then again, neither will 99% of the skaters out there. I do wish that the skating parents out there would think before they speak. Adult figure skaters are growing everyday. Don't assume we're waiting for our children, like you are. We're moving. YOU'RE sitting, waiting.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Tears, Nosebleeds and a Pain in the Backside
Have you ever cried so hard you made your nose bleed?
Sunday was one of those days. I've had a series of pretty bad sessions ever since I volunteered to be the ice monitor at the rink on Sunday. Between the stinky attitudes of some of the parents who yell and scream because the schedule of sessions was changed and NOBODY told them (all they had to do was look it up on the website) and the price remained the same and my own issues, it's just not going well.
Things had been going along quite smoothly and then sessions were cancelled for three weeks and my body seems to have forgotten all the things it used to know how to do: like a right inside three turn(?). They were never my strongest three turn, but I could do them and suddenly BANG! Gone. I can't even seem to figure out HOW to do the darn thing anymore. It's frustrating and I've taken some weird sideways falls because while half of my brain says "Go, you got it", the other half says "No way in hell" and my body agrees with that half. It has me flustered.
No, it has me depressed.
I don't need any assistance in the depression department. My back hurts 24/7. My sciatica Sylvie has shown up and refuses to leave. Sometimes the pain is so bad, breathing hurts. Sometimes I can't put weight on my legs. I still have that annoying cough. I'm still fat. My stomach always hurts. My roommate/sister still wants to move away. But the biggest cause of my depression is my job.
For seven years I have worked with a woman who doesn't cover her mouth when she coughs, chews with her mouth open, refuses to lift the phone receiver so she uses speaker phone all the time, tells me I'm wrong every single day, has never allowed me to finish a sentence and has never, ever, ever said "please" or "thank you" to me.
This, combined with a lack of a social life, chronic pain and no prospects for a job whatsoever, has sent me into a depression tailspin the likes of which I have not known since 2002. (That's another long story which also involves work and skating.) How depressed? I have been contemplating checking out of this world. I can be pretty anal about things, so I have made a plan and picked a date. Things have got to turn around for me.
This brings me to Sunday. People, parents really, do not assume that the person checking in your little darling is someone's mother. You have seen me and my busted body on the ice, I am wearing a pair of skates, STOP ASKING ME WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER! I don't have any children, I'm happy to report. I'm not fond of children and even less fond of parents. If I didn't have kids last week, I don't have them this week, so please, stop asking me.
Also, no, I didn't just start skating. I've already discussed how tired I am of having to defend my skating ability. Will I get back to my former glory? I hope so, and fast as time is running out (see two paragraphs above) and I'd like to stop looking like this is the first time I've ever worn skates in my life. I'd like to restore that which was lost, get that which never was, feel good about my skating again. Your comments are not helping my depression, so...
I sat in the locker room after the one and only session I skated, crying so hard my nose started to bleed. A lot. I have high blood pressure (lucky me!) and that may have contributed to it. I don't know. All I know is when I left the locker room with red eyes, no one noticed.
Perhaps that's part of my problem; I am invisible to most. Except if I get in your oblivious child's way. Or when the Zamboni doesn't resurface exactly when you want it to; then you notice me. Other than that, I am quite invisible.
Amy, my coach, thinks things are getting better. She's a very positive re-enforcement type of coach. She also very positive attitude. My attitude right now really sucks. I am in a funk I cannot get out of. So deep is this funk that I don't care that I'm only skating 1 1/2 sessions per week. So deep that retail therapy isn't helping.
I just want to get into bed and stay there for about a year.
My sister plans on going to the rink with me on Sunday. She can be very critical and caustic; just what I need. (Insert sarcasm here!) We're going to brunch afterwards because she is tired of my cooking. I wonder how much alcohol I can drink and still get on the subway. Wish me luck.
Sunday was one of those days. I've had a series of pretty bad sessions ever since I volunteered to be the ice monitor at the rink on Sunday. Between the stinky attitudes of some of the parents who yell and scream because the schedule of sessions was changed and NOBODY told them (all they had to do was look it up on the website) and the price remained the same and my own issues, it's just not going well.
Things had been going along quite smoothly and then sessions were cancelled for three weeks and my body seems to have forgotten all the things it used to know how to do: like a right inside three turn(?). They were never my strongest three turn, but I could do them and suddenly BANG! Gone. I can't even seem to figure out HOW to do the darn thing anymore. It's frustrating and I've taken some weird sideways falls because while half of my brain says "Go, you got it", the other half says "No way in hell" and my body agrees with that half. It has me flustered.
No, it has me depressed.
I don't need any assistance in the depression department. My back hurts 24/7. My sciatica Sylvie has shown up and refuses to leave. Sometimes the pain is so bad, breathing hurts. Sometimes I can't put weight on my legs. I still have that annoying cough. I'm still fat. My stomach always hurts. My roommate/sister still wants to move away. But the biggest cause of my depression is my job.
For seven years I have worked with a woman who doesn't cover her mouth when she coughs, chews with her mouth open, refuses to lift the phone receiver so she uses speaker phone all the time, tells me I'm wrong every single day, has never allowed me to finish a sentence and has never, ever, ever said "please" or "thank you" to me.
This, combined with a lack of a social life, chronic pain and no prospects for a job whatsoever, has sent me into a depression tailspin the likes of which I have not known since 2002. (That's another long story which also involves work and skating.) How depressed? I have been contemplating checking out of this world. I can be pretty anal about things, so I have made a plan and picked a date. Things have got to turn around for me.
This brings me to Sunday. People, parents really, do not assume that the person checking in your little darling is someone's mother. You have seen me and my busted body on the ice, I am wearing a pair of skates, STOP ASKING ME WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER! I don't have any children, I'm happy to report. I'm not fond of children and even less fond of parents. If I didn't have kids last week, I don't have them this week, so please, stop asking me.
Also, no, I didn't just start skating. I've already discussed how tired I am of having to defend my skating ability. Will I get back to my former glory? I hope so, and fast as time is running out (see two paragraphs above) and I'd like to stop looking like this is the first time I've ever worn skates in my life. I'd like to restore that which was lost, get that which never was, feel good about my skating again. Your comments are not helping my depression, so...
I sat in the locker room after the one and only session I skated, crying so hard my nose started to bleed. A lot. I have high blood pressure (lucky me!) and that may have contributed to it. I don't know. All I know is when I left the locker room with red eyes, no one noticed.
Perhaps that's part of my problem; I am invisible to most. Except if I get in your oblivious child's way. Or when the Zamboni doesn't resurface exactly when you want it to; then you notice me. Other than that, I am quite invisible.
Amy, my coach, thinks things are getting better. She's a very positive re-enforcement type of coach. She also very positive attitude. My attitude right now really sucks. I am in a funk I cannot get out of. So deep is this funk that I don't care that I'm only skating 1 1/2 sessions per week. So deep that retail therapy isn't helping.
I just want to get into bed and stay there for about a year.
My sister plans on going to the rink with me on Sunday. She can be very critical and caustic; just what I need. (Insert sarcasm here!) We're going to brunch afterwards because she is tired of my cooking. I wonder how much alcohol I can drink and still get on the subway. Wish me luck.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)