We are on a four-day, adults-only ski-cation in Vermont. My daughters are six and one, back home with my mother-in-law. I’m stoked because it’s the first time I’ve been away from my youngest child, who is recently walking and hellbent on killing me. I love my kids and I’ll miss them, but I’m ready to take a chill pill and throw all caution to the wind as I sail down icy trails if you know what I mean.
Unfortunately, all my female friends bail on the trip. Too expensive? Too far? Too many loud dudes with stinky feet in a small house? I have no idea their reasons, but I do know I’m the only girl at this gorgeous chalet with a private sledding hill in the middle of two iconic ski resorts, Stowe and Smuggler’s Notch, in upper Vermont. Like I’d miss all this because of some stinky feet? As if!
We spend the entire first day in below zero temperatures on a two-chair lift that s-l-o-w-l-y spans one of the biggest, if not the biggest, mountain on the east coast. It takes longer to go up than it does to go down.
So, day two my butt has freezer burn and my lips are dry and cracked like the Sahara Desert. I need a laid-back, go-at-your-own-speed, drink-peppermint-schnapps-from-the-flask kind of day.
Everyone else agrees, so we dust off the eighties ski jumpsuits and prepare to make a rad video with mountains, neon colors, vintage sunglasses, and big hair. Unfortunately for me, I forgot my crimper at home.
I have to say, Wes has the best jumpsuit. He says he bought his online from some specialty Italian retro-thingy-online store. He also paid more than $200 for his dayglo white, green, and pink ski suit. That’s just bananas. Justin, my husband, found his butt-huggers online as well. It’s a woman’s jumpsuit and, as the loving nickname suggests, it’s rather tight on his bum. I do like the blue and yellow, though. I kind of wish it fit me. Then there’s Jay’s. That thing is just heinous. I can’t believe he paid a hundred dollars for his black, purple and Ecto-green outfit. Gag me with a spoon. Even in the eighties, I bet they thought it was grody.
Mine, however, mine is glorious.
It’s turquoise with a pop of purple and an elastic belt with one of those plastic clasps we used to pinch our fingers in as kids. Totally tubular. And, the best part, is that I found this baby at Goodwill for $9.99. My new nickname on the trip is Goodwill Queen. I aint’ mad about it either. These boys can go ahead and spend stupid money on their used eighties ski jumpsuits. Looking at the four of us, you can’t tell who paid top dollar and who got hers for a steal. We all look like idiots.
I go the entire day with a wedgie that spans my supposed-to-stay-put undies, my base layer, and the jumpsuit. But the mild pain is so worth it when the ski lift operator says, “you guys are winning the week.”
After we bounce, I pick the song Jump as our home video’s background song, because it’s pretty much the best eighties song ever. For more fun, you can watch our home video here.