So I went snowboarding. Sort of. I threw a bitch-fit during the lesson, asked her how to take my "Goddamn snowboard off," did so, and then stomped off down the hill I couldn't drag myself up that all the other 13 year-olds had effortlessly. When my boyfriend convinced me to put it back on, I continuously fell on my ass, which could possibly be broken now. I can't tell through all the layers of blubber.
My next excursion involves floating down the river in a yellow raft while getting drunk. I SHOULD be able to handle that, but I've yet to experience the great outdoors without erupting into heaving sobs (very early on, I might add).