Sunday, February 7, 2010

I complain on Sundays...

A gaggle of gripes to satiate your craving for the bitter within me... Don't act like you're not excited...

I have done my best... I have put in all the effort I can muster... I have wasted countless hours and brain cells... The sad fact remains...

I do NOT like watching sports...

In fact, I LOATHE watching sports...


And I've tried, I really, really have. I've always wanted to be that girl. The guy's girl. The one that gets excited at kick-off. The one that cracks a beer and screams at the ref and has a favorite team. The one that wears the jersey and the face paint and looks oh so cute. The one that can't wait for the Super Bowl or the Final Four or the Look-I-Have-A-Huge-Penis Cup...

But really... if you want the truth... after 4 quarters or 2 halves or 3 periods or whatever the hell I'm up against... I suspect I look more like this...



And after 30 years of trying to alter my interests, to change who I am, to savor the organized sport, to be that girl, I finally and fully accept and celebrate the fact that I am not. I don't like beer. I think it tastes like piss. I don't understand the enthusiasm that is generated when a group of over-sized competitors score more points than their opponents. I feel absolutely no thrill when someone I don't know catches something I don't care about.

And I make no apologies for that.



I've spent a majority of my life feeling like less of a person because of this. But here is the simple truth, raw and exposed... I am an artist. I am a girly girl. I like being on stage. I like fabulous shoes. I like shopping and hanging out with girlfriends. I like being crafty and creative and right- brained.

These things do not make me less of a person. They do not make me a stereotype or a cliche. They do not make me less fun or less cool or less down-to-earth. These things make me who I am.

They make me... me.

I am currently holed up in a back bedroom, writing a blog entry, while 17 of my friends and family members scream and yell and cheer and laugh on the other side of the house. 17 football fans bonding over the glory of the Super Bowl.

I. In Solitude. Giddy with contentment. Creating.

So I complain. And not about the Super Bowl or even sports as a whole, but about the fact that I was born without the "bug". The "fever". The "love of the game". And for that I am the outcast. For that, I am so often not included... at least on game days...

I have always feared that confessing my distaste for athletics would be about as understood as saying I hated puppies... or ice cream... I mean who the hell doesn't like puppies, right? But today I take a stand. Today, I spit in the face of Super Bowl parties across the country, and I say...



So suck on that!

3 comments:

  1. Ha ha. I'm with you...I hate sports and I don't care who knows it. :)

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  2. Good for you! Now I am so not that girl most of the time but I can gear up and act the part when the time is right. Especially when the Huskers are playing. I don't care one tick for professional sports. We didn't watch the Super Bowl...but would have had we had cable. But I watch for the commercials. Love 'em.

    Do you like the Olympics? Figure skating perhaps?

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  3. Testify it sister! My husband watched it yesterday, but he admitted he was more curious about the commercials. He did get into the game tho. Haha. The one and only time I got caught up was when the Angels won the world series in 02. Other than that. Yeah, my life is just fine without sports. Oh yeah, and beer is nasty.

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