Managed to get myself up and out of bed this morning for a surf. Paddled out at VBW and, well, it didn’t suck. Set waves were in the head high + range and the shape was fair. I got two pretty decent waves right off the bat when I paddled out. I was feeling quite cocksure of myself at that point. There were only about three guys out. Then I slipped into kookville mode and proceeded to face-plant down the face on my next two waves. Then the internal chatter started with the what the fuck is my problem this morning. Then I let two good set waves go by. Then I popped up too early and missed the wave. By that point, I was ready to pull out a Morning Star (Medieval Weapon of Torture) to begin the self-flagellation you’re-not-worthy-to-call-yourself-a-surfer torture. I was pretty much the only girl out in a pack of guys and I so wanted to rip hard. Everytime I paddled for a wave, all eyes were on me. But the harder I tried to rip, the more I sucked. I wanted to say to each and every one of them, “You should have been here earlier. I had two good waves. Really, I don’t totally suck.” Then, the clock-ticking started as I looked at my watch and realized I needed to get out and get to work. Shit, shit, shit. I started dreading the unthinkable – the paddle of shame where I would have to paddle in if I couldn’t catch one last fucking wave in. I think I hate more than anything the paddle of shame. It will take what might have otherwise been a good session and end it on such a downer. Fortunately, I was able to avert the paddle of shame and managed to catch one last wave in to shore. Whew. For only a 1 hour and 15 minute session, I sure experienced a rollercoaster of emotions this morning. I’m exhausted.