I wake up at 8:30am, which sounds like an ungodly hour, but please consider that Patrick wakes up at 7:30am so he can be first in line when the ski lifts open. I eat a quick and light breakfast, grab my way too heavy skis, and walk to the lifts to meet my class for ski school. Usually, I regret not taking the bus. I ski from 10:00am to 4:30am with an hour break for lunch, which typically consists of soup. After the last run, I walk back to hotel, ideally after guilting someone (i.e. a dude) into carrying my skis for me. This is entirely dependent on whether I plan on a more extensive work-out later (see below).

Upon my return, I drop off everything in the ski room and get out of my sweat-drenched clothes. Then I have an hour to hang out with the Roomie, consume chocolate and/or cookies, and have sex if I am so inclined. At 6:00pm, the Roomie and I hit the gym for an hour to stretch and do weight training. That is followed by an hour in the “wellness area”, which involves sitting around naked in stuffy wood-paneled rooms, taking cold showers while ze Germans gawk at my tattoo and nipple piercing, and lounging about in a bathrobe with my inner thighs half-exposed as I read Lady Chatterley’s Lover. (Despite the gawking, I do think it’s a shame there are no co-ed saunas in the States.)

Dinner is at 8:30pm. There are five courses (two appetizers, a salad bar course, a main course, and dessert) and unless something is terribly wrong, I opt for all five. This is more or less a repetition of last year’s ski trip diet. This time, I can’t wolf down cheese but despite my lactose intolerance, I remain a food machine. Somehow, I don’t manage to gain weight, and in fact, was in the best shape of my life while skiing in Lech last year and scarfing down plate after plate of heavy Austrian cuisine. We’ll see how this year goes given that I popped a zipper on a dress during dinner tonight. I can’t decide if it was the hunk of bison or the white chocolate parfait that sent me over the edge. Whoops.

After my epic meal, I manage not to sink into immediate post-dinner lethargy. I stay up to chat, nibble on the cookies that come with Patrick’s coffee, and don’t get to bed until midnight (or 1am if the aforementioned pre-gym sex was postponed). And then it starts all over again.