About Gastric Girl

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Tomball, TX, United States
My name is Laurie. I'm 34 and I live in a suburb of Houston, TX. My life isn't super exciting or ultra dramatic, but I love it! My blogs are just a peek into my life as I know it. I'm quite random and have an opinion on everything, but I love everyone's aspect on things, even if I disagree. The world would be quite boring if not! :-)


Christine's Guest Post: Pink, Fuzzy Handcuffs!

Christine is another blog that I recently have started reading, and I've loved every one I've read.. she's got a great mix of humor, information, and day to day stuff! :)    Enjoy!

You’re heard the saying. “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.”

I say, “When life throws you pink, fuzzy handcuffs, bust them out and make an impression.”

Hi, my name is Christine and I run a little weight-loss blog called Phoenix Revolution (www.phoenixrevolution.net). If you don’t know me already, here’s a little background:  I’m 32 years old, I has gastric banding surgery a little over a year ago, and I’ve lost 85 pounds so far. I’m pretty mousy in real life and have an uncanny ability to blend in with a blank wall. Every now and then I open my mouth, and when I do, I think I send the whole world spinning backwards. Or, that’s what it feels like sometimes! Here’s a case in point:

While I was in graduate school, I decided on the spur of moment to romp off to The Netherlands to visit a friend. I threw my clothes in a backpack – I travel lightly – and hopped on the soonest plane to depart.

I had never been to The Netherlands before, although I’ve toured Europe fairly extensively. I of course, wanted to visit Amsterdam and all the delightful areas of town that involved.  As you can imagine, I ended up in the heart of the Red Light District. Yeah, it was pretty spectacular. Naturally, I wanted some kind of souvenir to remember the trip by. I wasn’t keen on bringing home a STD, so I figured something a little tamer might be more appropriate.

I walked into a sex store. Oh boy! What treasures that store contained!  They had, ahem, gadgets of all varying shapes and sizes.  They had “reading material” (can I call it literature?) for every discerning preference.  They had clothing that covered – and uncovered – all kinds of bits of flesh!  Oy, it was all quite overwhelming. But then I saw it – the perfect souvenir! A pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs! 

They were so cute! So Barbie-doll pink! So soft and fuzzy! I had to have them. I slapped a few Guilders down on the sticky counter and giggled like a silly schoolgirl.

Now, remember I said that I pack light, right? I hate checking luggage – it’s time consuming, and my bags always end up in Oklahoma or some remote destination.  Well, even though I was in graduate school, I am not always the brightest bulb in the room. I put those pink fuzzy handcuffs in my backpack with my clothes and yes, I went through security with them, intending to bring the bag with me on the plane.  

Naturally, the hottest Dutch man was working the security point that day. He put my bag through, smirked, and then ran my back through the X-ray machine again. He called over another security-buddy of his, who just happened to be the second-hottest Dutch man I’ve ever seen.  He looked at the screen, and then looked at me. Looked at the screen. Back at me.  He started laughing.

I thought I was going to die from humiliation.

They called over not one, not two, but three more security officials – all men. All hot.  They couldn’t contain their laughter. I think one guy started crying from the laughter.  I wanted to crawl into my backpack and die. 

Eventually they opened my bag and pulled out the pink fuzzy handcuffs. All the people held up in line behind me started tittering. The first security guard gave me a warning look and said, “Next time, check your bag, okay?”  He handed back the handcuffs to me and sent me on my way.

I stuffed the handcuffs in my purse as fast as I could and hauled ass off to my airplane terminal.  I was originally booked for a flight direct from Amsterdam to NYC. It was a completely full flight, except for two empty seats. One of those seats was right next to me! Hooray! I thought that my luck had turned around. An extra seat to spread out in during an international flight, especially as I was quite overweight at the time, is akin to a bubble bath and deep-tissue massage after a long hike up a volcano/mountain. (Read about that trip by clicking here:  http://www.phoenixrevolution.net/archives/295)   An extra seat is delicious and glorious. I settled in with a smile on my face.

Then the stewardess got on the intercom. “I regret to inform you that there is an emergency situation, and we need to pick a few passengers up at London, Heathrow Airport. This short delay will only put us into our final destination 30 minutes late. If you have any questions about a connecting flight, let me know.”

Well, dammit! What passenger can be so freaking important that they would re-direct a nearly-full airplane to pick them up?
J.K. Rowling. That’s who.  We stopped in London, and J.K. Rowling, her husband and children got on the plane.  She handed the kids over to her husband, and took the seat right next to me. I knew who she was instantly. I love Harry Potter, and I’ve seen several interviews with her. It had to be her.

As I sat there wondering whether I should say something to her or not, she opened up a notebook and started to write. I think it was Book Four of the Harry Potter series. Glancing over her shoulder, I could see her write about Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I was so giddy and nervous I started shaking a little.

I had to get her autograph. Hers would be a fantastic addition to my collection.  I grabbed my purse to pull out a pen and piece of paper.
Out fell the pink fuzzy handcuffs. Right there on the airplane tray.  Bang. With a clatter. Ms. Rowling looked up from her scribbling. She looked at her handcuffs, then looked at me with more than a little uncertainty in her eyes.

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.


I picked up the handcuffs and turned directly to her. “I know you’re JK Rowling. And I know you’re writing a Harry Potter book right here. You’ve got two choices. Either you can give me your autograph, or I can handcuff you to this chair and you can tell me whether Harry lives or dies in the end. Your choice.” 

I smiled.

I say, “When life throws you pink, fuzzy handcuffs, bust them out and make an impression.”

Visit my blog!!! www.phoenixrevolution.net


JewliaGoulia said...

Awesome! I am not a fan of Harry Potter and wouldn't know JK Rowling if she was. . . sitting next to me on a plane - but that is awesome. ;)

Heather said...

That is hysterical! How I would love to be able to pull that off! What a great experience. I love it! What did Ms. Rowling say? :-)

Thank you for a great story!

Rachel said...

That was a great story!! How exciting to be sitting next to someone famous!!


Salted with Shadows said...

She's hysterical!