I came across my love of tennis kind of by accident, when I was approaching my Cougarhood. My friend, JHo, had been encouraging me for years to take up “Welcome to Tennis” at the Mayfair Raquet Club. “When we’re old ladies, we will play tennis in the morning and drink gin in the afternoon,” she explained. I didn’t really like gin at the time so this did not appeal to me at all. “Vodka then, who cares?” So finally I signed up but it wasn’t because of the boozey apres-match afternoons, it was the little outfit in the window of the Pro Shop. Stupid Stacey and Clinton from “What Not To Wear” had brainwashed me into thinking that women over the age of 30 cannot wear mini skirts. Damn them! My legs are my crowning glory since my hair is not. I’ve been known to sit with my legs over my head, even my passport photo has a thigh in it. Tennis skirts are the civilized answer and they barely cover the bum: No problem, a few more deadlifts and yoga. So I got the outfit, took the lessons, and the rest is history. I am a bad player, though, because my optometrist says I have problems perceiving depth of field. My tennis instructor, however, said I was distracted by the boys, hence the *special* remedial lessons after class. I don`t play so much anymore, but I love to watch. I send Freddy to tennis camp every year at Kew Gardens, check out their website here:
And of course, the highlight of the tennis year is The Rogers Cup at the Rexall Centre at York University. The men and women alternate between Toronto and Montreal and this year, we have the men. Last night, my friend, Lorraine and I got to see Rafael Nadal play Stanislas Wawrinka. Rafa was hot, I noticed he`s not quite as muscle-y as he once was but he still has the best high water booty in all of men`s tennis. I think this is why he is always digging in the back of his shorts, his high power glutes make them wedge up. Sigh, I love him. And what is love… I ponder both in life and in tennis. Apparently, in tennis, love is l’oeuf which is an egg in French that looks like a zero. Love means nothing, which is Tennis Canada`s website, click here to find out more. And in life, love means finding quirky habits like constant ass-picking charming.
Also what I love about the Rogers Cup is the actual event, you know how I love crowds of people, little freakshows. Here are some of the sights:
And Rafael Nadal:
And post butt-pick: