One summer day, in 1995, my aunt Bonnie set up a slip ’n’ slide in her backyard, the kind of water slide that lies flat on the lawn and relies on running water and sheer force of will to propel whoever jumps on it from one end to the other. Of course, ours was not a real Slip’N Slide. My family was much too cheap to invest in store-bought anything, much less store-bought water slides, like the one from Toys “R” Us with the multiracial children on the box, laughing heartily while gliding along their soft, slippery, inflatable Aquatic Wonderland. Instead, my aunt set down two large blue tarps on the hard ground, like we were preparing for heavy construction. She positioned the garden hose on one end, turned it on high to build up a current, and covered it in bath bubble soap for lubrication. Not unexpectedly, soap proved to be ineffective at turning a literal sheet of plastic into a slip ’n’ slide, so she brought out the next logical option, a canister of pure vegetable oil, and covered the tarp in a thin, shiny layer, like a glistening leaf of lettuce.

I stood back and watched as my cousins, one by one, slid onto the tarp tummy-first and skidded along its surface like greasy chicken cutlets. I was the fattest and least athletic of the family, well known as the one most likely to end up hospitalized for skipping the wrong way. And so, I stood there and watched the others before trying it for myself.

When I’d finally worked up the courage, I took a running start (or as much of a running start as my bulky legs allowed), leapt as high as my flat feet would take me, and crossed my legs midair like I was sitting down for story time. Why my brain thought this was a logical pose to strike is beyond me. I think I envisioned gliding along the tarp butt-first, and sliding to the end with my hands resting adorably beneath my chin like I was posing for a glamour shot. Perhaps a part of me wanted to take the moment to show off, to use this dumb garbage water slide to show everybody that I could do what they were doing, and then some! Fuck you for always thinking I was the dumpy unathletic family nerd. I can read books and hit this slip ’n’ slide like a champion.