For those of you who are fans of "Twilight" this will be easy. I want you to visualize Bella in gym class.
For those of you who are not fans....what is wrong with you?
Only joking...there is room for everyone in this world. :) But let me try to paint this picture for you....a girl who can't hit the broad side of a barn, who trips over everything including her own feet, who runs into walls and who, when armed with any type of athletic equipment is considered a hazard.
Have you go the picture going???? If not let me unveil the face of this girl.....it's ME!
I am quite possibly the most clumsy and athletically disinclined person you have ever met....really. Once in high school gym class I tried to play volley ball...I ended up getting my lip busted by the ball. As soon as I tasted the blood I hit the floor.
On Halloween my husband had some rare time off and he decided he wanted to do something together for fun....
Okay, I'm game, what are we doing?
Why don't we go play racket ball?
Say what now?
Come on, it will be so fun!
Off we go. We arrive at the gym...drop off the kids to play in the kid zone and head over to the racket ball court, which is synonymous, by the way, with chamber of despair.
But really, how bad could it be? I drag my feet along, dread building inside of me. The racket might as well have been a deadly serpent or an oozy nine millimeter. I feel dizzy and a little nauseated. There is just no possible scenario that involves me and Mike and racket ball that ends well.
I turn the corner and see it for the first time and the dread dissolves into pure terror. The front wall is glass....completely clear. You might as well have dragged me into the OBGYN to do a documentary for TLC...this would be every bit as humiliating.
I could feel every set of eyes in the entire gym (also the entire state of Virginia) boring into me and my face was every shade of red known.
And it began. If you can picture a flamingo trying to hunt on the African plains, you might have a good idea of what it was like watching me play racket ball. I spent most of my time plastered against the wall and the rest trying to avoid being hit. The few times I did swing for the ball, I missed, blushed and returned to the wall. If the ball did come towards me I would tuck my neck down, turn pink and lift one leg...classic flamingo position....as the ball/lion comes straight for me.
Then it happened....the perfect time for me to make a change...to no longer be that girl who had once been the joke of her gym class...the ball was in perfect motion, at just the right speed and headed right for my racket. I looked at Mike who smiled at me and I swung with all my might, feeling the racket connect with the ball and watching...as it went entirely the wrong way and hit my husband right in the face. I gave him a fat lip....and a bloody nose.
I guess next time we'll go out for ice cream?