He brought me to our local ski hill to teach me. I was wearing a nice pair of blue ski boots we had bought specially for the occasion, a pair of ripped up black ski pants and a hideously pouffy off-white marshmellow-looking coat that makes me look like a pale and sickly Albanian boy. The hat, gloves and scarf did not match anything either. I basically looked a hot mess.
If only I knew that my fashion results would predict my skiing results...
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I stood next to the ski tow while Andrew tried to coax me on it, as bar after bar passed me. I just shook my head while five year olds cut in front of me and hooked onto the ski tow like total pros. Finally (probably with a promise of giving me cookies later) I got into place as it pulled me. As soon as I started slowly going up the hill, things were going figuratively going downhill for me.