It has almost been three weeks since The Incident, and I think I am finally ready to talk about it. Cameron Diaz almost killed me.

It began en route to our beach vacation. The Sweetie casually remarked that Cameron Diaz was sexy because she does guy stuff.  “She just seems like she’d be a lot of fun. She golfs, she watches basketball, she surfs…” His innocent remark was duly noted, as I sat stewing in my tiny airplane seat. What has she got that I haven’t got? Other than fame, gazillions of dollars, legs up to her armpits, a long lanky body, sunny blond hair, fantastic style and natural athletic ability. Other than that we’re practically the same person. I resolved that I too would become a sultry fun tomboy. I’d show The Sweetie, I’d show everybody!

The first day of beach volleyball didn’t go so well. I was afraid of the ball and spent most of the game yelping and ducking, and on the rare occasion that I managed to make ball contact I jammed my thumb and developed bruises on my forearms. It brought back painful memories of junior high gym class, when the jock girls would yell at me to get the ball while I’d be daydreaming of more laid back and non-competitive pursuits.

Due to my shark fear, surfing was out of the question. Even in my quest to be a sexy beach girl I was not willing to look like a giant sea turtle and place myself in shark territory. Boogie boarding, however, keeps one close to the shore and seemed like a safer option.

I conjured up memories of Cameron Diaz in Charlie’s Angels, the perfect beach babe icon, running in a tiny white bikini, surf board under her arm. I scampered into the waves carrying my boogie board, flashing The Sweetie a wide grin and flipping my hair, channeling Cameron all the way.

I started feeling like I was Cameron, whooping and forgetting that instead of a white bikini I was pasty and wearing a tankini to camouflage my belly rolls. The ocean was my playful frolicking friend. I was a natural. If Cameron and I met we’d become best friends and swill beer together and go shopping and she’d give me a makeover and teach me how to golf.

In the middle of my Cameron fantasies I was suddenly slammed by a wave and thrown face first onto the ocean floor. I emerged with a bleeding nose, stunned, humbled and oh so betrayed. The ocean was not my friend after all.

I spent the remainder of my beach vacation reading novels and magazines, looking like I’d been in a car accident, unable to move my neck and sporting unsightly bruises and gashes across my face. My dreams of being the new more portly Cameron Diaz dashed, I spent my days jotting down recipes and pressing cold compresses to my neck. Thanks to Ms Diaz and my subsequent injuries I’m sure my golf swing will suck, if I ever take up the game.

Despite almost becoming a human sacrifice to the ocean, I am strangely comforted. I like the idea of a universe in balance, that there is a natural order to things, some form of checks and balances. For every leggy blond fearlessly surfing, there must be a stubby legged mousy haired bookworm reading a magazine with an ice pack on her head. It’s only fair, and for what I lack in athletic ability, I will make up for with high speed page flipping and killer guacamole.

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 22nd, 2009 at 8:17 pm and is filed under Rants . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.