Tennis Outfits and Math Tests
Mental Fitness. When I’m out of shape mentally, I tend to spend more time and energy thinking about things like tennis outfits and math tests. Like this week, for example, I went to ladies’ tennis clinic at the lowest-key tennis club near us and noticed that seven out of eight ladies (me being #8) were wearing the little skirts, the visors, the matching tanks and socks, the whole deal.
I was in greying black joggers and a t-shirt, and kind of a sombrero, to keep the sun off. At the end of the clinic I complimented one of the ladies’ skirts and she told me where she’d gotten it and that it had been on sale and that the tennis store in town is really expensive and like that. Normal, nice response.
Some of the other ladies then got into kind of coaching me or congratulating themselves on the benefits of wearing appropriate gear.
“I really feel like I play better when I’m in tennis clothes.”
“My husband told me it would give me more confidence to look the part.”
“It’s more comfortable once you get used to it.”
I’ve worn tennis clothes before and I’ll admit they are cool and comfy for play but the second I’m off the court I feel like an a-hole. That said, if I want to fit in, and I do, badly, then I probably want to get over myself a bit and get on the little floofy skirt bus.
So I went from clinic directly to the store that one nice lady recommended to look for stuff but they didn’t have my size, nothing was on sale, and that poseur in a floofy skirt feeling was up, way up.
Evie was talking: “Your thighs are way too big for that. Your belly is too big. You are too big. And too good a player to need that crap plus too crappy a player to wear that stuff which is for normal, nice tennis ladies and not your sorry foot flaring up butt.”
Ambivalence about fitting in, wanting to fit in but not being entirely willing to do what they do, wear what they wear. Wanting them to like me and think my game is dope without showing up like a player.
Or even, despite showing up like I don’t really give a crap or don’t know how to roll. I know how to roll, I’ve been playing tennis since I was 4. I’ve rocked the skirts, my inner five year old feels fabulous in them.
Ok, so then, anyway, the point which is getting lost although if you’re still reading and now thinking about tennis outfits vs black leggings then good you can relate to how my brain attaches to anything and makes it a problem.
When I’m fit, mentally fit, none of this matters!
Get a skirt, don’t get a skirt, have that breezy cool feeling running around, have that covered up rebel no big deal feeling in the black uniform. It doesn’t matter.
It’s freaking amazing that I get to play a game with other women who are nice and looking for fun and friendship and are supportive and welcoming. Whatever I’m wearing.
And yes, if I show up dolled up I’m pretty sure they’ll give me compliments, and heck ya that would be nice. I’m not above liking compliments on my outfit.)
Anyway, it’s that spiritual self having a human experience conundrum. I get to enjoy the superficial even while knowing it is superficial. And I get to tell Evie to stick it in her ear. I’m gonna keep going.