Friday, February 19, 2010

I deserve a gold medal just for admitting this...

Once upon a time (around the age of 8), I was pretty certain that I was meant to be a figure skater. Had my parents nurtured this belief in any way? Of course not. The only thing that I had done to prove to them that I was meant to be a figure skater was toss one of my mom's throw pillows on a hardwood floor and push myself around while watching the Olympics on our rabbit-earred TV that we had in the front room*, acting as if I were Oksana Baiul.

Around the age of 11, I moved into the biggest kids' bedroom (I remember my dad telling my brothers that "girls need more space". Although I still don't understand this thought, I continue to appreciate the sentiment). In this bigger, better bedroom there was this strange 12"x12" hole in the wall where a 1970's speaker was once housed and instead of patching the hole, it only made sense to cover it up with a poster (which could really be a metaphor for how I deal with my problems now, but that's another blog for another time). My mom didn't believe in having unframed posters hanging up (she still doesn't, you should really check out her basement now...it's like a framed poster shrine), so we were off to Wal-Mart to find a classy poster and a poster frame. Want to take a guess as to the classiest thing I could think of in 1994? Ohhh, son...you know it. Nancy Kerrigan. Dang straight.

I really hope that you appreciate that I searched and searched online to find the exact poster that I had in my room.

My dreams of Olympic gold were dashed when I was told that I wasn't really "built" to be a figure skater (or a gymnast...I was convinced that I could be either if only my parents would fund my natural talent). True, I was taller than my naturally petite gymnast cousins (gosh, they were so cool with their ability to do backflips) and, as my uncle strangely told me once, I was built like a brick shizhouse (yeah, he didn't say "shiz" and I still don't know what that means...), but did that really mean that I couldn't hang with Kristi Yamaguchi? Apparently so.

I can't be 100% certain, but I think that's the time I stopped caring about the Olympics.

So, if you are one of the 5 people that I know that have been sucked into the excitement that is the 2010 Vancouver Olympics...enjoy, because very soon you will completely forget the athlete's name in which you have been wholeheartedly rooting for.


*Did anyone else on this planet have a "front room"? As I was typing that, I realized that I've only heard that term used to describe the country blue and dusty rose room in the house I grew up in. Conveniently, it was located in the front of the house.

4 comments:

Julie said...

Wow, that blog very quickly went from heartfelt to crapping all over the Olympics! Kristi Y. lives in Raleigh if you need to make a road trip to stalk her to get an autograph.

Alison said...

Nah.. we had a front room, too.

whatnot said...

I'd always wondered how our throw pillows in the magnificent country blue front room got so dirty. Mystery solved. Thank you so much, Oksana.

Julie said...

Had to make sure to say Happy Birthday on the blog too to acknowledge it via all modes of electronic communication! ;) Happy birthday, sweets!