Game, set, match!

In my never-ending quest to become the most polished trophy wife in the whole of the district, this week I started competition tennis.

I had been systematically and methodically nagged to near death by Mrs O’Kelly for a little over two years now to join the club and finally, in a moment of weakness, I agreed. I found a teammate and then basically was in a mild panic until the day of the first game, when my mild panic turned to all out, stomach churning, and diarrhoea inducing nerves.

Because I play tennis just as well as I produce semen.

The day broke and I sat down on the couch in the early hours with a cup of coffee when I noticed that the couch was wet. I looked around and everything was foggy and/or wet. Mr. Woog burst through the backdoor gasping…

“The humidity! Check the humidity!”

And so I did and HOLY FUCK IT WAS 97% HUMIDITY! This was at 7am. If there is one thing that Mr. Woog despises (besides my addiction to listening to self help podcasts in the car) it is heat and humidity. I sent him back out into the soupy air to find some tennis racquets.

With the kids off to school, I put together my tennis ensemble, carefully selected from my range of faded black Target gym clothes and tracked down my superbra of anti-bounce power. And hour later it was on, such is the time it takes to boob wrangle into it. It is like Fort Knox.

My doubles partner Mrs. O’Neill tooted from out the front and I grabbed the racquets, my keys, my bag and a my plain beige hat from the hall stand thing. We nervously chattered away on the way to The Killara Tennis Club, which was a delightful ye olde worlde establishment that opened its’ doors in 1912. There was a gathering of women standing around in lovely outfits and hats that bore labels such as Lorna Jane, Lululemon, Adidas, Nike, Reebok, Asics and of course, SLAY QUEEN.

The hat is not mine, it belongs to my son. It also made my look completely up myself as in “I am going to slay you all on the court!”. We were assigned our court and our competitors and together we wandered over. Our competitors were so bloody lovely and reassuring that everyone starts out being a little hopeless. And I thought to myself, that there was hopelessness and then there was plain and simple ineptness.

Mrs Woog, meet ineptness. “Charmed, I’m sure!”

The presence of Mrs O’Neill meant that it wasn’t a complete white wash. Well, it was but at least she managed to have a bit of a rally here and there. I squealed every time the ball came near me and made up some new, never been seen before attempts at hitting the ball, one even resulting in me doing a similar move to this.

As a group, we decided sue to the EXTREMELY UNPLEASANT WEATHER CONDITIONS we probably didn’t have to play the third set decider. Because of the EXTREMELY UNPLEASANT WEATHER CONDITIONS.

Key Takeaways

  • Take an esky full of water
  • Buy a tennis outfit and shoes that are not black
  • Do not wear black playing tennis as it absorbs heat
  • Expect to resemble large beetroot at the end of the match.
  • Do not get frustrated at yourself. You will only play worse.
  • Do not apologise every seven seconds.
  • You WILL get  better
  • I had fun and I’ll be back, better than ever. Which is exciting as I could not have been any worse.

Anyone for tennis?