Oh, Look! Something Shiny!

I’ve taken up a new sport. Largely the fault of my brother-in-law, UM. No, he didn’t make me try golf, but he did something far more devious.

He got my children interested.

And with their background in gymnastics, they were naturals at swinging a club (and from trees, but that’s another post entirely).

I’ve done a darn good job avoiding golf my entire life. It was easy. Really. Watching golf was like watching paint dry (thankfully, the golf pro running our class has a really good sense of humor about stuff like that). It takes place outside, on grass. Allergies? Anyone? And from a spectator’s perspective, the whole “sport” just seemed so, well, silly.

I admit, I was NOT open-minded about the whole thing.

But, my kids loved it. Sister and UM both played. Husband’s job started involving more charity golf stuff and he started playing in some tournaments and I looked around at the people showing up at our local golf course and thought, “Hey, if all these people can do this, surely I can,” so I signed up for some lessons, thinking, “Piece of cake.”

All of you who golf have just fallen off your chairs laughing hysterically at me, thinking I’m about to get exactly what I deserve for having such a dismissive attitude about the whole thing? Yeah, thanks for your support.

I waited for my series of lessons to start. In the meantime, however, I had to outfit myself properly. Being the suburban girl that I am, I couldn’t possibly take lessons until I had all the equipment, right?

I called UM and had him order Husband and me some golf clubs (like I was going into this alone–ha!). After all, UM is the family’s resident golfing expert, and Husband and I totally trusted him to get us a good set of clubs.

While I waited for those to arrive, I went out and bought golf shoes.

Now, I wasn’t crazy about the color. I’m not a pink person–okay, I hate pink. It’s absolutely my least favorite color, dating back to childhood trauma of always being dressed in lavender and pink because it looked so pretty with my hair. BUT, after trying on a gazillion pairs of golf shoes, these were the only ones that were comfortable, and since they didn’t have my size in the brown ones, I bought pink, fully intending to dye the leather to the right color.

A few days later, my golf clubs arrived.

Go ahead, guess what’s coming next. No, I’ll wait. Guess.

That’s right! My clubs, in all their shiny newness (I love shiny new things!) are….

PINK!

And not jut any pink. But bright, blinding, HOT PINK.

The entire shaft has pink bits on it (isn’t is shiny, though?).

The grips are pink.

The heads are pink.

They’re just so…. pink.

I called Sister immediately. She didn’t believe me about their pinkness. So I sent pictures. Then she called, back and said, “Wow, they’re hot pink!”

Uh, yeah.

She offered to trade me my brand new clubs for her four-year-old clubs. Apparently, the clubs UM ordered for me are the latest and greatest (told you he could totally get me a good set of clubs). Of course, I didn’t trade her (I’m not an idiot). So we decided that with my pink clubs and my pink shoes (and now my pink golf glove), I needed a pink shirt and I could, at the very least, have a whole outfit going. I’d look good, if nothing else.

Because after my first lessons, it’s clear I certainly can’t PLAY the game.