Chubby girl @ water park...snarky comments need not reply

I remember the summer of 1992 - I was 12. My dad had just gotten full custody of me that summer and was quickly learning that I was indeed a girl and not one of the 15 bratty little boys he was coaching that summer for little league baseball. The point that I was a girl was driven all the way to home base when he received a call from work from me crying on the other end of our huge cordless phone telling him I had gotten my period. I know, right? I think that might have been one of his most horrific moments as a parent. It was definitely one of mine as I made a faulty choice (with lack of motherly consultation) to use a tampon. The first time I got my period. Every woman knows - this is a no no. So, traumatic experience? Heck yes.
Now, you may be asking, "What in the hell does tampons and first periods have to do with water parks?" Well, my dad decided to make me feel better by allowing me to go with him and his little league baseball team to the water park in Memphis - Adventure River. Perhaps you too went in the 90's - it was 'da bomb diggity. I was less than thrilled to attend with a group of meandering little tween boys - who would without a doubt annoy the piss out of the only girl attending within the group. But yet, I was excited to get my swim on. I picked out my most sporty swimsuit and packed my bag. I could hardly sleep that night with thoughts of water slides and wave pools. The drive to Adventure River was nothing short of...well...an adventure with a group of grown men and annoying little shits also known as 6th grade boys. But alas, I almost wet myself when I saw the tips of swirling slides from the Interstate as we quickly approached the park. I was excited. We are talking Griswold National Lampoon Vacation excited. But something about being there with a bunch of boys when I was 12 just made me feel extremely uncool. I chickened out and barely rode any of the thrill water slides. If I could go back to when I was 12, I swear I would push myself up that water slide and show those boys who was the queen of the water park!
That was 19 years ago. But today, I embraced my inner 12 year old. And I mastered every single water slide at the park. And I'm 31 years old. And I'm chubby. And I'm as white as they come. And you know what? In the midst of tanned and toned teenagers, moms who had better bodies than me, little kiddos in their floaties, and most importantly, the  12 year old little baseball bullies who brought me back to 1992, I, 31 year-old, white-as-a-ghost chubby girl rocked the hell out of that water park. And I did it with flare. 

The Accelerator.
Fear scale: 6.
My first slide of the day. I may have had a somewhat difficult time maneuvering myself onto the inner tube, which I am sure brought entertainment to some spectators, but I did the damn thing. (And a little bit of pee may have came out in the process.) Oh, and it should be noted that my one piece suddenly became a thong at the end of the ride. Dear fellow on-lookers, you're welcome.
Bathing suit in my ass scale: 10. 











 

The Cyclone.
Fear scale: 6-7.
Water rides, like cheese fries, are much more fun when shared. I rode with my friend and nephew. This slide - part in pitch-black darkness and part in the light (which you see pictured), was just pure fun. And I felt like the 12 year old in me was saying, "Finally! A little fun!" My serious 31 year old persona disappeared with the first splash of water.
Bathing suit in my ass scale: 2.

The Pipeline.
Fear scale: 5.
Most fun water slide of the day for me. I rode it three times (he! he!) And I'm pretty sure I said "Whoohooo!!!" Did I make a total idiot out of myself? Yup. Did I care? Hell to the no.
Bathing suit in my ass scale: 8.5.

Black and White Lightning.
Fear scale (before riding): 4
Fear scale (after riding): 9
This was the type of water slide I would not ride that day back in 1992. Partly because I had (um...make that have) an extreme fear of falling off the side of the slide and plunging downward toward my death. But, caution was thrown to the wind today as I plunged down both slides. Would I call drinking a gallon of chlorinated pee water and scraping my knee loads of fun? Not quite. But I did it anyway!
Bathing suit in my ass scale: can't remember because I was checking my pulse to see if I was still breathing.

Vortex.
Fear scale: 7
This ride was kind of like a shot at the doctor's office - the more you thought about it, the worse it seemed. But when it actually happened, it wasn't that bad. Besides the fact that it was completely enclosed and super-fast, it was not that big of a deal. (But because most people thought this was the scariest of them all, I felt like superwoman afterwards).
Bathing suit in my ass scale: 9.5 - I mean, hello? It is called Vortex. What did you expect?

Vertigo. (aka "blue fish bowl" or my personal favorite "Hell's toilet bowl")
Fear scale: off the charts
The definition of vertigo is: a medical condition that leads to a sense of spinning, dizziness and disorientation. Wow. And we pay for that?
I must have had an out of body experience to have ridden this. We've all had the unfortunate experience of flushing Goldie the goldfish down the toilet when he met his untimely death. Well, I'm pretty sure this was natures way of paying me back. Because I felt just like a goldfish...or something else being flushed down the toilet. It all happened so fast that my only thought was, "when will I get to the round bowl thing so it will be over?" And then I landed in a large pool of water and was quite surprised that the lifeguard did not come to my rescue. Since I looked horrified and all. "No, it's ok, Mr. Lifeguard, don't help me. It's not like it's your freakin' job or anything." Yet, my overwhelming thought was, "I did it!" Twelve year old Danielle would have never attempted hell's toilet bowl. But 31 year old Danielle jumped in feet first...because...I mean, that's what the sign said to do.
Bathing suit in my ass scale: Who cared? I was alive.

Usually, I'd be so concerned with trying to not look like an idiot. I normally would have fretted over which bathing suit made me look the least fat and then spray-tanned my way into an oompa-loompa orange so I wouldn't feel like Casper the friendly ghost at the pool. But, today, I did something better. I lived. Granted, it was only water slides. But, I lived it up. I had fun. I didn't give a rip what people thought or how fat I was or any of the other less than appealing things I could have worried about. I didn't give a rip. I looked at myself in the mirror in the bathroom on the way out of the water park - and I saw a girl. I saw a chubby girl. I saw an extremely pasty-white girl with no hopes of ever having a tan. I saw a sunburned girl with a tired face. But you know what else I saw? I saw a girl who had fun.

So, have fun. Do life. Ride the slide. Don't worry about looking stupid. You get one life - so do it.