Newsflash: It's not 1996.

Nor do I live in Venice Beach. I don't own a fuschia sequined fanny pack a la SJP in Sex in the C-c-c-citttttay. And I'm definitely not in the position to rock the stirng bikini/jean shorty shorts combo so I'm not quite sure what convinced me that these babies needed to be in my life...

I should have known it was a bad idea from the very start. Yesterday, I went to the Academy right after work and headed straight to the Rollerblades. Oh No - this wasn't an impulse buy. I went with a mission - perhaps its a skewed mission. Let me explain, I'm in the process of of optimizing my life for exercise. Months and months of eating like a true southerner with no cares have left me with more than a little extra weight to carry around. And with a baby shower in Houston next month and a family wedding coming in October, Mum says we need to get our butts in shape. Cause lets face it, no one enjoys being stuffed into dressy clothes especially with 14 layers of Spanx hidden below. Knowing myself and my eating habits, I figured that exercising was my way.

So I had been eyeing this pair of Rollerblades for sometime now. I even tried them on a little bit back. The fact that I nearly pulled a muscle while trying to put them on in the store should have been a sign. But nooooo. Once I get an idea in my head, it's hard to shake. So as I was saying, I went right up to these Rollerblades yesterday, found my size, and then proudly paraded myself to the counter - no looking at other skates, no trying on, no taking them for a test drive up and down the aisle. Just picked em up and said "Herrre we go!" At the counter, there were other signs - signs that this whole Rollerblade/Fun Fitness thing was wayyy outta my league. For starters, the cashier opened the box to remove the security tag and noticed that I had two left skates. Mhmmmmm. After a 10 minute search for the right skate, we noticed that only one skate had a stopper. After some debate amongst me, the cashier, the cashier on the next lane, and the shoe (& Rollerblade) specialist, we all decided that you're only supposed to have one stopper. Sure, who the heck needs 2?

Mid-debate, over on the next check out lane, I noticed a little someone that I was soooo not interested in seeing - lets call him "Person X." Coming straight from work, I looked like hell - crazy hair that was on it's last day before a wash, splotchy mineral makeup that decided to fade off in some spots, and a crazy tank top / blouse pairing riding up in the back and dipping too low in the front. I panicked. As LyLa kindly pointed out this morning as I told her this story, I am anything but "cool, calm, collect." Suave will never describe me. So in a panic to avoid Person X, I began the hurried dash to pay for my merch and get the freak out of there. Had I been fresh from a day at the spa and clad in some ass fabulous jeans and a top that stayed exactly where it was supposed to, I would have made my cashier flash the light above her register and yelled "YOO-HOOOO! Please turn your attention to Lane 1 where I am looking oh-so fabulous and happy. Feel free to spread that information around! - especially to anyone that you're friends with that I may have dated!" Sure the above is shallow. But in that moment, it would have been ideal - well in my mind anyways. But that was not the situation, and I scurried out the sliding doors, huuuuuge Rollerblade box in tow. I took a teensie glimpse back towards the registers, and wouldn't you know.... Person X caught me. Again, I will never be subtle.

Awkward run-ins pushed aside, I rushed to change into some work-out wear as soon as I got home. While unlocking my trunk and lugging out the box of skates, I mentally wrote down my new Rollerblading fitness regimen. I'd skate in the evenings and on weekends - extra long on Saturdays. I sat in my driveway and unlaced/unsnapped/unbuttoned (seriously Rollerblades are like the straight-jacket of shoes) my skates and began to put them on. Putting these things on may be classified as the most unattractive thing I've ever done. Seriously, I was on my back, legs splayed out in the air...tugging and groaning - oh and SWEATING. Yes I broke a sweat just putting them on. Immediately after I finished gettin 'em on, the first thought that popped into my head was "Maybe I should have bought the safety pads?" and then I expelled that with a "NAHHH. Safety pads are for geeks."

OH you just don't know folks. You just don't know.

I pulled myself up, grasping for anything, and steadied myself by holding on to the side mirror on my car. "How hard could this be?" I thought. I used to rock it at the Skate Zone in 6th grade. It's like riding a bike, no? NO.

I plugged in my headphones and put on the only song suitable for this adventure - Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA." So I pushed myself forward, a little wobbly but good. I skated down to the end of the driveway and made a-way-too-wide turn. Half in the bushes lining the driveway, I held on to the branches until I thought I had my balance and then I leaned forward and pushed myself back up the driveway. After a few more wobbles - I thought I really had it.

I was "nodding my head like yeaaaaaaaaaah, rockin' my hips like yeaaaaah." For a moment, I really did think it was 1996 - the wind in my hair, swerving around in my drive way like I was on the speed skating team, snapping my fingers to Miley - feeling soooo cool I could barely stand it. Then, my dear lovelies, a rock brought me back down to Earth. Literally.

Ten minutes into my skate-sesh.... deja vu. There I was on my back, legs in the air, and me panting for air. I had hit a rock and my skates flew right out from under me and I came down to the ground with a thud, right on top of my left wrist.

Now's probably a good time to tell you I live on a major roadway - and traffic is still backed up at 6 pm. I suddenly became aware of this as I sat at the end of my driveway and looked up to see traffic slowing dowwwwwwn in front of me. I waved everyone on as if to say "Nothing to see here folks - Just a girl who's lost her dignity"

And there I sat for another 10 minutes. Just sitting.

Wondering whatever made me think Rollerblading was my ticket to fitness.

I eventually crawled back up the driveway, kicked my skates off, and went inside - my head hung low. As if I didn't feel defeated enough, I began to notice a searing pain in my left wrist.

Oh yes! My first (of many to come) Rollerblading injury.

I spent the rest of my evening in bed, watching Disney Channel, and gorging myself on Otter Pops.

So much for being in shape...