...and I'm even wearing the goofy pants to prove it. It all started when I took a golfing class in college. I was a joke. The class would pretend to be teeing up at the range, but in all reality would be watching my mad swinging in every direction. It was horribly embarrassing. Eventually though, with some patience on my instructor's part and some strong attempts on my side, I became decent on the driving range. And then the semester ended.
A year and a half later, I'm at this wedding when the groom's brother recognizes me. "The really bad golfer!" Soon everyone in attendance is staring at me as if I had walked in trying to golf right there. Not fair, I was minding my own business, it isn't as though I went to the wedding in goofy pants and golf cleats. Weak sauce.
Okay, so now we will go forward another year or so. My father and my boyfriend have begun to golf together. My dad feels it is necessary to say to Cam that I golf, because sure, I took a class in college. (I took that class because I had to take some athletic credit and I figured golf wouldn't require me being embarrassed by being the last picked for some team sport. Athletics aren't really my thing.) Suddenly Cam is excited because now I can join them as well. Next thing I know, we are looking at women's golf clubs. One sale comes along, and suddenly I have a bag full of everything I need and no good excuse to hide.
So, it all comes to yesterday, where I donned the silly checkered pants and grabbed my shiny clubs. Good/bad news, a golf instructor was there in our foursome. I got tips that annoyed the hell out of me, but also made me better. It was a long course and I managed to totally bogey a hole, which is a start. Of course, there was that nasty incident on hole 9 when I threw a golf club up in the air and about 15 feet behind me. Eh, I'm learning.
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