She looks like Elsa From Frozen!

That should have been my first clue!!!

You know those commercials about “the most interesting man in the world?” That dude has nothing on author Debra Holland, one of the amazing writers from #OCCRWA. She’s smart and funny and lovely and also a total badass, and in this picture she’s about to get into a cryo tank. Yes. To be Cryo’d.

Without getting into the reasons either one of us might get into one of those babies, specifically, there are a lot of reasons that people do.

And I’m an old hippie soul, gosh darnit. I was doing Transcendental Meditation at the age of 12. I have been a hundred different religions and also no religion at all. Before I was in college, I had experienced past life regression, had my astrological chart read by experts, memorized all the Christian Science tenets of faith, had energy work done and faith healing, and been rejected by prospective inlaws as being both too Jewish and too Christian–when not even theoretically, but actually I was neither.

So when Debra said, “Wanna try getting in a cryo tank?” I said, “I’m in.”

Because when life asks you if you are a goddess you say:

YES!

And I admit I’m easily led but I’m super, super smart about who I let lead me. I probably would have drawn the line somewhere. Electroconvulsive therapy, maybe. Heroin, definitely. I would have said no to heroin, had she offered it even if she’d said, this will make you feel good. So… You know. I can be led only up to a point. And it seemed like a good idea.

But Elsa up there has an obvious advantage, what with her being the goddess of ICE.

Hello yeah. I come from generations of people who lived in HAWAII.

Here’s a comparison:

You see what she’s doing? She’s DANCING. To a cute hit song. I shit you not. She is dancing to a song inside a machine that is freezing her alive. And it really looks like fun, doesn’t it? It looks like she is having a good time. Like she’s enjoying her own personal rave in there. Whooo. Spooky. Gotta get my groove on now. It’s cold.

But I ask you! How is a girl who was given up for adoption by four generations of Hawaiians and then adopted by five generations of Angelenos gonna know from cold?

She is not going to have a clue going in, that’s what. She is not going to have a single clue that she is about to get the abso-fucking-lutely worst headache of an entire lifetime of ice cream headaches and she’s going to think it’s never, ever, ever going away.

Behold, Le MOI!

I don’t think I’ve needed that particular expression since I gave birth to my second child. I swear, I really tried. I danced. I smiled and I acted as if. I placed myself in the hands of my higher power, and then I asked if I could please get out. Right now. Please. NO. I can’t seem to put on my robe, sir. I’m afraid I’ll have to run through your studio in my granny panties and bra, sir, what with my inability to imagine life after this moment…

Because yeah. No. Cold is cold. There’s a reason people wear clothing when the weather dips. And therapeutically speaking, we should probably have walked before running. Because I lasted slightly over one minute. And I really seriously think punching out was the right thing to do.

Maybe I’m just a hothouse flower. And maybe I’ll work up to it. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be one of those polar bear dudes, who leap into the frozen lakes and now I know. I will know more tomorrow.

Special thanks to Debra! They need to start making beer commercials about you!! Wow!