Fore!
This is the story of my very first golf lesson.
May I just say that the next day there was virtually no part of me that didn't hurt.
My Aunt, Uncle, Cousin Jimmy and I met our instructor, Matt, at the golf course. Although he speaks fluent "golf" he did a very good job of translating into "idiot," which I happen to be fluent in.
If any of you happen to be thinking about taking up golf may I offer the following advice: before you start lessons, first take a shovel with the roughest handle you can find and spend at least 6 hours lifting it up and whacking it full speed into the ground. Repeat this process every day for a week or until you have hands that are 90% callus. This will prepare you for what I spent the first part of the class doing. Apparently that ball is an elusive little devil so instead of hitting it up in the air in a pleasing manner, I instead managed only to dig a hole in the ground with my 9 iron. And since I had not prepared, my hands disintegrated.
Another piece of advice I would give would be to not wear pants that are a little too big on you. I did. And when I wasn't digging my hole, I was spending the rest of the class yanking my jeans back up. I mean, it's not like my panties were bright red and conspicuous from miles away....right?
And finally may I just recommend that you bring something with you that if soft and squashy that you could put in your back pocket if necessary. I think I have a bruise from whopping myself in the butt on my back swing.
All in all it was a very fun day. Because golf is magical. There is nothing quite as satisfying as swinging that club and having the ball shoot up in a graceful arc and fly straight and true to the exact place you wanted. It is beautiful to behold. Or rather it would have been except that the number 1 rule of beginner's golf is: the awesomeness of the shot is inversely proportional to the number of people watching.
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