Well, thank goodness for a sense of humor, right? After all isn't comedy defined as Pain plus Time?
So, last night I spoke at a gathering of Dutch Baby Boomers here in NY. I was, if not the entertainment, the Speaker of the dinner program supposedly telling them of Boomer life in New York. When I got done with my amusing little speech, she said modestly, I asked for questions. There were none!
I told them I was available for private questions during dinner and one woman asked me to come to her table.
They looked a little embarrassed, but finally one of the women spoke up.
She said they wanted to know how come I was speaking for Baby Boomers when I was ...what? 45?
Well, Dear Readers, I am not 45...not even close and because I was so flattered and full of champagne and myself...I actually told them my real age. They were aghast and said that was impossible and then one of the men went around the table telling everyone's age...and it was usually 4-6 years older than mine. Needless to say, I was aghast now. They looked, shall we say kindly...older!
So I felt very happy and went home with renewed reason to stay on my diet!
Beware cockiness, folks. You are setting yourself up for a fall!
Today, I was feeling so young that I signed up for a tennis boot camp kind of thing Sunday night.
I had played a lot in California when I lived there and was about a "B"...in those days we rated alphabetically not like now, numerically. But though I haven't played regularly for years, and I had a tennis elbow which laid me off a year or so ago...I had recently taken some lessons and done pretty well. So
I decided I was a 3.5 which I thought was equivalent to a B. You see it coming...don't you?
Flush with pride and a nice check from the speaker's gig, I even took a towncar down to the courts.
I got there early and saw some guys killing the ball and some women being hit in various body parts. Oh oh.
I asked what level they were and they turned out to be 2.5-3. Double oh oh.
I finally saw my group...and there was a guy who looked to hit the ball like Roger Federer and a little girl/woman I guess who could have killed me.
I said to the Teacher, I think perhaps this is not my level. I explained my various injuries, but said maybe I could try the 2.5-3 group next time as I thought I could do as well as one of the women who was hit in the stomach and walked it off.
The Teacher suggested that I perhaps take a lesson with the "advanced beginners"...to which I said, Well, since I've been playing for 30 years I didn't really think I was a beginner, though out of practice.
Then he said, are you in good shape?
(I thought my legs looked really good in my little dress.) But he clearly meant endurance as he said, You can see this is rather difficult and "WE DON'T WANT YOU TO GET HURT. MOST OF THE PLAYERS ARE IN THEIR
20's and 30's!"
Okay. Now remember, just because I look like I'm in my 40's, or at least some Dutch think so...I am not!
I packed up my stuff and left.
And I took a bus home to punish myself for the sin of Pride and then, half way, got off and walked home to see how my endurance was.
I got home puffing only a little.But at least I did NOT eat the chocolate I wanted to.