What have I been up to lately? Golf!
Yeah, you heard me. This impatient, competitive super kiasu chick is now a golf player wannabe. I say wannabe because this is only my 4th time playing on a golf course and I still have no idea as to what I am doing or suppose to do. I’m not really sure how I got rope into this after resisting for the past 3 years when MOH asked me to play with him. But here I am now in my ah pek black tracksuit, long sleeve t-shirt and cap on the greens raring to go.
Now, I can see how this game can get very addictive. I used to think that it was a silly game involving balls, metal sticks and holes 😉 I still think that but it’s a game that I have come to enjoy. I like the mental stimulation I get when I prepare to putt, the satisfied feeling when I have done a successful drive (which doesn’t happen often), the utter frustration with myself when I don’t drive as well as I think I should be even though I have squared my shoulders, squared my feet, made my left arm stiff as a brick and swung with grace and precision only to have the damn ball roll off the tee and land right in front of it. The sad truth is I am not even exaggerating.
I don’t like to sun bathe but playing golf on a beautiful day is equivalent to toasting yourself in an oven. You will find that some body parts end up charcoalled and the other bits have turned into a painful golden red colour. You lug around heavy bags with dozens of balls (your sure to lose about half of that into the forest and ponds and highways), your lunch, your water bottle, snacks etc you get my drift. It’s like camping without the happy result of setting up camp, building a fire and yodelling into the night to keep the wolves at bay. Since I am already on the road to having a riot with my whinging I might as well continue with the fact that mere seconds from putting I have to stop because MOH wishes to tell me that I am not putting straight. Well I’m looking at the damn ball, looking at the hole where I am suppose to putt to (which by now with sweat in my eyes and my temper on the uprise) looks impossibly far. So far that when I ignore MOH and do putt I miss by a mile…a mile so big that the grand canyon could fit into it. “Farking perfect” I mutter to myself.
So, take those scenarios I have given to you and times it by 18 holes and 4 hours and you can imagine the bliss that I have on every golf outing. I swear, cuss, grumble and literally act like a spoiled child on the green but when I putt in my ball on the 18th hole, tally up my score I still raise my hand for the next outing and I can’t explain to you why. I just want to do it again.
Yes, I just wanted to let you know that I am playing golf right now but without much success. It seems my path to being the asian, female version of ho bag Tiger Woods will have to wait.