Kick some or kiss some?

Me, Myself... as Mommy.

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In my attempt to take back my life and body, I signed up for indoor soccer.  Last night was our final game.  I plan on playing again; for some (like my sister Emily who loathes sports), it with be their last game EVER.

It’s been a blast running around attempting to relive my glory days of soccer, but my body is getting old.  After each game, I pop Tylenol PM, then spend the next day limping around.  If you want to get in shape, soccer is definitely the road to travel.  Fifty minutes of running, sprinting, and throwing elbows has you huffing for air.  You can actually feel your butt start to fight gravity and lift to its proper place.

Brian also plays on the team.  This is his first experience playing soccer.  I’ve dragged him to dozens of Real games, which I hate to say, is the worst soccer to watch.  His dad called soccer a communist’s game.  Too bad Brian didn’t play early on, because he’s a really great player.  He comes equipped with long legs that carry him from one end of the field to the other in seconds.  When he can get his foot to meet the ball, he has a great kick.  He explained it a:” I can toe-punch the hell out of that ball.”  He’s right.  Brian hasn’t run in ages, either, but he’s like Forrest Gump.  Never slows down.

Here’s where I’m not having fun.  I can no longer be "ugly" on the field.  I lived through too many horrible news stories, birthed an innocent child, and flat out don’t have the energy to talk smack.  When I was a young'un, pissing off the other team was part of strategy.  You want to hurt and come out with the ball.  Now, I want to slap the other team’s hand and thank them for giving me a great workout.

Last night I played against a girl that deserves the title of “bitch.”  She got me so worked up, I got within an inch of her face, yelling who knows what.  Referee blew his whistle, and I was out.  I was mortified I could get that worked up over a soccer game in the “D" league.  Sure, she should be more embarrassed that she was playing in the league when she obviously was an excellent player.  I guess she has poor self-esteem.  She did have legs like an elephant.

After my three-minute punishment was up (we had no girl sub, so I did get to catch my breath) I got back out there.  The rest of the game, I tried to be friendly, keeping my temper in check.  I also spent five minutes convincing Elephant Legs I am not some honky-tonk Towanda.  She just rolled her eyes and said some choice phrases.  I should have ripped her eyes out, but that would be mean. 

It’s bothered me that I could get that upset over a game.  Brian is so chill, never loses his temper, and probably isn’t on anyone’s hit list.  Half of my high school has my name at the top of their list.

I want to be aggressive.  I want to get out there and show Elephant what I can do.  But, now I’m Scarlett’s mom and it doesn’t seem worth it.

Since it was our last game and I know Emily only signed up for the treats, I handed each player a trophy…a cupcake from So Cupcake.  You can’t burn too many calories. Otherwise, you’ll waste away.

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