A Little Girl's Dream

This past weekend, I went to two days of Davis Cup matches held here in Birmingham. I'm not necessarily the biggest tennis fan, but I like to experience new things, and I thought I shouldn't pass up the chance to watch some professional tennis played live. And I may or may not have wanted to see Andy Roddick, but let's not rate my motivations here.

Watching so much tennis reminded me of one of my rather odd childhood dreams: to be a ball girl.

For some reason or other, I really wanted to be one of the people that runs out on the court to grab stray tennis balls.

I imagine that a large part of my motivation was the outfit. Like most activities, including ice skating and tap dance, I was mainly in it for the clothes. As a girl who refused to wear pants as a child ("because ladies didn't do that") and often sported a tiara to school (like that one should really come as a surprise), I would do a lot for sequins or cute skirts. It must have been the skirt because as much as I remember loving tennis skirts, I also remember loathing the one tennis lesson my mom made me take.

I'm guessing the other motivation might have been that ball girl seemed like a pretty fool-proof way to participate in sports. I closed my eyes when the ball came towards me in batting practice, and it took a lot of Barbies for me to make the move from the kiddie pool to actual swimming, so I did a lot more bench-sitting than playing when it came to sports.

Another activity I joined for the outfit, cheer leading, even ended in humiliating defeat when I was on a squad that earned the "most improved" award at cheer leading camp. (Next to being at mascot camp -- sorry mascots -- winning the pity award at Southern cheer leading camp is no more prestigious than my time spent on the Math team.)

Although, as an adult, I can now see that being a ball girl would have been just as terrible as playing actual sports for me. Imagining myself in the role of ball girl at the Davis Cup, I envisioned a lot of tennis balls bouncing off my body and farther down the court, poor rolls that interrupted play and many, many dropped towels. (Never throw keys in my direction. Just trust me on that one.)

Plus, with matches that last at least two hours long, I would have been strolling towards the ball rather than running after it within a half hour. And that crouching position? Not with these knees.

In short, ball girls (and boys) of the world, I salute you. I'm pretty sure that blogging about watching a tennis event is as close as I'll get to the actual court ever again.

Mine!

I apologize for not including a new post last Friday, but I was in the midst of wedding madness. You see, in addition to being a "freelance writer" and "lush," I also spend much of my life as a semi-professional bridesmaid.

I have a pace for walking down the aisle that is near perfect, and I can remember the names of family members and their relation to the bride and groom with about 85% accuracy. With all of the experience I've been getting lately, I really am that good.

Anyway, this particular wedding was for my friend Sarah who I have known since kindergarten. And, since I do have a blog, I thought I should take this opportunity to address a rumor/possibly embellished story that has been bantered about since Saturday's big event: I might have gotten a bit too "enthusiastic" during the bouquet toss, but I would like the chance to explain further.

First of all, I was the tallest bridesmaid in the wedding. This was quite a shock to me. Other than my summer as a Mother's Day Out teacher for two-year-olds, I have never been the tallest person in the room. In fact, I'm normally the shortest person around. During class pictures in elementary school, I was usually off to the side in a little chair because I was the shortest person in the entire grade. And, today, even though I'm pretty average in height, I'm still on the short side.

I tell people that I'm 5'6", but the truth is that I'm barely 5'4". Fortunately, due to a carefully plotted history of lying and never being seen without heels on, most people, including my own family, have no idea how short I really am.

But getting back on task, the point is that I was the tallest bridesmaid, and since nothing like this has ever happened to me, I think I let it go to my head. Plus, it only got worse when I got my hair done, and the hairstylist added another inch and a half to my height with the volume on the crown of my head. I loved it, but there would have been nothing out of place about me performing the best loved hits of "Diana Ross and the Supremes" at the reception.

Well, unfortunately, during the bouquet toss, I was placed next to the shortest person at the wedding. Which means that I may or my not have used my height advantage to grab the bouquet out of her reach. And, there may or may not have been an incredibly awkward moment afterwards in which we both had our hands on the bouquet and wouldn't let go. And, there may or may not be photographic evidence of said event. (I will say this in my defense - eventually I conceded the bouquet.)

There are several factors, other than the height, that might have contributed to my mild wedding faux-pas.

1. I know how awkward it looks in pictures when no one goes for the bouquet, and it just hits the ground. I couldn't let this happen to one of my best friends. After all, humiliation lasts for a few moments, but wedding albums are forever.

2. Weddings make me feel a bit single. A bouquet might have given my hope. Sometimes we all need a little encouragement from the cosmos.

3. Open bar.

4. I had been wearing my super spanx/girdle since 2:30 that afternoon. I was spandexed from just above the knee to right below the boobs. This probably prevented a lot of blood flow to my brain. It's hard to think straight when half of your body is lycra-ed.

And, while all or some of these factors might play a role, I think the biggest truth lies in the fact that I just have quite a competitive edge. I was never good at sports as a child, but when board games or opportunities to excel are on the table, something happens.

At that moment, it wasn't about the bouquet, it was about beating other people. Just like I think you should have to provide the full, given name in Trivial Pursuit, I think you should accept the fact that if someone can grab the flowers out from above your head, you've lost.

What can I say? I come to play, and I play to win.