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I
decided yesterday that I am totally missing the boat by not playing
tennis. Frankly, it's probably way too late for me to begin a
"career" or even a hobby of playing tennis, because I pretty
much shunned the sport all through my youth. My hatred of the sport
started out in high school physical education class when our P.E.
teacher forced us all to don our gym shorts and hit the tennis courts
outside of our school. First of all, back then I was not a
"gym" kind of girl. I
weighed about 90 pounds soaking wet and considered "sweating"
one of the most heinous concepts on the planet. If I became even
REMOTELY uncomfortable doing an activity, that was more or less it for
that sport. Such was the way of tennis. My friend Cindy Wilson
shared my loathing of overheating, so we became "tennis
partners." "Wouldn't
it be great," I said, one day when we were getting way too
exhausted chasing after balls that we kept missing, "if we didn't
even HAVE a ball? That way," I explained, "we wouldn't have to
chase after all those missed hits." Cindy
was all for this plan and we suddenly realized that it didn't have to
remain a concept; that indeed we could "play" without a ball-
the P.E. teacher barely looked up from her clipboard long enough to know
we were alive, let alone whether or not we were using a tennis ball.
Furthermore, we realized with glee, if we were not actually chasing the
stupid little yellow ball around the court, we could PRETEND to be
passing it back and forth and appear to be cool and glamorous tennis
players to by-passing college boys without ever actually breaking a
sweat. It was genius in action and we became masters of deception in
"ball-less" tennis and managed to complete the entire semester
without ever once breaking into a can of Wilsons. When
my husband and I were married, we would, from time to time, hit the
courts for a "no pressure" game. However, he quickly realized
that I wasn't going to chase anything that wasn't hit directly at me
(due to my hatred of exertion), and he bored quickly of playing with me. So
I never became one of the tennis ladies. Which is a great shame, I
realized yesterday, because the outfits are ever so cute! For example, I
have seen tennis players in PINK skirts and matching Nike tops- lime
green sassy tennis dresses and even bright sunny yellow shorts and tops.
What ever happened to white? These ladies are STYLIN' and meanwhile I
have become a cyclist. Which while it keeps the old bod toned and the
thighs less jiggly, is not the sport of cuteness. In fact, as I pointed
out to my gym friends, I look downright unattractive when I get
ready to go. Let's
begin with the cycling shorts. They are PADDED. On the hiney. And the
thighs, and the inner thighs- all areas that on THIS body need no padded
enhancement. Then the shirts. They are bright enough, certainly (to keep
me from getting hit by cars, I guess) but lack that sassy snap that the
tennis outfits just ooze. Then the shoes- well, though they securely
fasten my feet to the pedals; they are about as manly as a pair of
oxfords. Definitely not a style I'd choose on my own. The
helmet smashes my hair to oblivion, and makes me sweat. But the worst
for me has got to be the special prescription goggles I had to get made
after I quickly realized on my first 100 mile ride that contacts were
just going to dry up in my eyes like corn husks in the August sun. These
goggles, which make my vision crisp and are a pleasure to wear on the
road, make me LOOK LIKE A GIANT BUG. The tops of the goggles
obscure my eyebrows, giving me a crazed eyebrowless look and the general
overall appearance is one of a super sporty chick who does not give one
whit of thought to what she looks like. This could not be further from
the truth. I wear lipstick to get the newspaper, so the process of
putting on these unattractive cycling necessities is almost painful for
me. Tennis,
on the other hand, involves flirty skirts. And pony tails, subtle make
up and bright white sneakers. Drats! If only I had just used a ball, way
back in high school.
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