Cowgirl Up

Monday was my Weight Watcher meeting. There was a snowstorm on top of the several inches of snow we already had. I have no car here since I’m visiting my son (in West Virginia) so he dropped me off at my meeting and I was to call when I was ready to be picked up.

Unfortunately, I left my phone on the nightstand. I didn’t realize that until I sat down and wanted to send a text message to my husband for some sympathetic lovin’ over my disappointing little half-pound loss. Throughout the meeting I concentrated on what I would do to get home and went back and forth between asking the receptionist to use the phone there to call him, or just walk home, to earn some much needed Activity Points. I decided on earning the Activity Points.
Now to the average fit person who had the good sense that God gave her to wear appropriate clothing in a snowstorm, this would not have been such a poor decision. Considering, though, that I’m NOT fit, that it was now dark, frigid temperatures, howling wind, snow blowing in blizzard fashion cutting into my bare skin…okay, I’m exaggerating just a wee bit…let’s just say I needed more clothing.

I always wear the same outfit to be weighed as I wore the very first day that I started so I’ll always have a truer gauge of the scale. That outfit will continue to be my “WW Monday outfit” no matter the season until it’s too big to wear. My coat, though stylish (even if I do say so myself), is lightweight and ineffective in areas that have cold winters. I live in Texas where it’s supposed to be sunny and hot 95% of the time, thus the choice of a much lighter coat. To my defense, I did pick up my scarf but it was a little wet, which made me a little nervous that the dog peed on it. Being one with a very weak stomach, I made that assumption rather than taking a whiff for confirmation, threw it in the laundry basket, and walked out the door. I guess not wearing the scarf triggered my poor choice of not wearing a hat or gloves, too. I’m a little anal about some things and one of those things is the precise order in which I don my winter gear. First the coat, then the scarf, then the hat, a quick trip to the mirror to be sure the hat is fashionably askew, grab my purse and hang it over my shoulder, then pull on the gloves. To further defend my…stupidity?...I really thought I would only be exposed to the elements from the time it takes to walk from the front door to the car, from the car to WW front door, then the reverse for the trip home.

So I walked out the door and immediately walked about four blocks in the wrong direction. When I realized what I’d done, I didn’t want to walk past the WW Center again in case somebody there saw me. Don’t ask me why because I simply have no clue, but I didn’t want anybody from there to see me walking. I made a detour one street over and walked the street behind WW…or so I thought. Another lovely thing about me is I have no sense of direction and I actually took the detour and turned in the same wrong direction yet again and walked that same four blocks on the other street. When I came to that same point again – wet, cold, hungry, mad at myself, and bummed about the measly little half-pound weight loss – I realized that I wasn’t sure if it was the right direction or not. I started crying. Yes, I’m a big ole baby. But it was dark; I was in an area of town I didn’t know, in a snow storm, frigid temps, half naked, blah blah blah. I stood there and tried to read the street signs, but I didn’t have my glasses, either, and I have night blindness on top of anality, stupidity, and being navigationally challenged. I put my frozen hands in my pockets and realized I had my pepper spray! Having lived in Texas now for a few months I learned a new term: Cowgirl Up!

"Cowgirl Up" is the female version of the old rodeo warning call, "Cowboy up."
This cry from the chute meant that the rider was seated on the bronco or bull and was ready for the gate to open. Over time, the expression came to mean that someone was ready and able to tackle some huge challenge. In some cases, it is even used as a verb: to cowboy up, meaning to be prepared physically and mentally for some difficult or dangerous undertaking. "C'mon, cowboy up for the job; you can do it!" – copied from the following website: http://www.lemen.com/qa206.html

So I grabbed my gun (pepper spray), mustered up my inner cowgirl, braved the elements, and forged ahead. It only took three more blocks before I recognized where I was. I, indeed, was walking in the wrong direction. I cried again. But this time it was because my legs hurt, my butt hurt, my back hurt, my hands were frozen, I had icicles hanging from my nose, snow was falling down inside the back of my coat, I was hungry, and I had a long walk ahead of me. An hour later I arrived at my son’s apartment. I dragged my frozen 279 AND-A-FLIPPING HALF POUND body to the front door and it was locked. I don’t have a key. This apartment is actually a big old brick house that has been reconstructed to make the downstairs one apartment and the upstairs another apartment. You guessed it…the bachelor pad is upstairs. A LONG way upstairs. Long enough that I knocked for 15 minutes before he finally heard me and let me in.

Today, one week later, I'm ready to go to my meeting again. You can bet the dog will be nowhere near my scarf, and my cell phone will be fully charged and secured inside my jeans pocket. And by golly, I gave up cheesecake this week. I had BETTER have more than a half pound loss. Wish me luck!