Evelyn Hates Sports
When I was young I just wasn't good at sports. It didn't help that the teachers were skeptical that I could even run, let alone throw a discus or those ball thingamies, whatever you call it. I still remember a particular teacher who was in charge of the day's ball throwing event (whatever you call it).Teacher: Hm...I see Evelyn is here. Are you sure you can even pick up the ball?
Me: ........
I hardly see that as a positive environment for me to grow to love sports. It only made me hate it more. Oh, I forgot to mention that the reason why the teacher chose to be so bitchy to me was probably because my mom was the afternoon supervisor of my school. Yup, my mom was in the same school as me. I assure you it did not make life easier for me. I could blog for hours about all the adolescent trauma I endured. But I digress. The only game I play up to now is tennis. No more, no less. That's the only game that captured my fancy.
Anyway, I devised ways to get out of sports practice and especially the annual dreaded event - Sports Day. I disliked the heat, the games, the teachers and just the general atmosphere of it all. Therefore, every year I would weasel my dad into writing a letter for me to get out of that living hell. One of the benefits of being a doctor's daughter, you see.
'This is to certify that Evelyn should be exempted from all sporting activities for 3 months due to a severely sprained ankle.'
Interestingly, I sprain my ankle at the beginning of the sports season every year. However, my years of cheating has finally come to bite me in the back. Everytime I knead dough, try to cut wire using pliers or have to do anything that requires strength, a small part of me wishes that I tried harder when I was young. Then I wouldn't have to struggle so much now.
Spent the whole afternoon learning how to pipe royal icing in preparation for another upcoming birthday. My entire right arm and fingers are sore. Not sure if it's me, the icing or the bag.
Oww...
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