Sunday Musings

Whenever I substitute teach for middle or high-schoolers, I almost always receive the following three questions:
1) How old are you?
2) Are you married?
3) What sports did you play in high school?
I usually politely avoid answering number one, because a lady never tells (especially when that lady is not infrequently mistaken for a high-schooler herself). Whenever students hear the affirmative answer to number two, a whole slew of questions follows (e.g. "What's your husband's name?" "How old is your husband?" "What does he do?" "Where did you meet?" and, indubitably, "CAN WE BE FACEBOOK FRIENDS?") and after some curt answers (e.g. hisnameisprestonandhesateachertoo and NO), I try to change the subject, and all goes merrily along. Whenever I answer "none" to number three, however, I am always greeted by a certain amount of surprise. I go onto say that I did a lot with theatre and music in high school, and generally that sates their curiosity, but the question always touches a nerve. A nerve where I am EMBARRASSINGLY sensitive.
Because, internet, here is the truth: outside of gym class, I have never played sports. That is right. NEVER. As a child I never did swim team, or played YMCA soccer or softball or basketball, and even as an adult, I've steered clear of sports. I married into an extremely athletic, "team-sports" kind of family, so substitute-teaching has not been the first time I've encountered this question. Oh no. I've been attempting to explain it away for years.
"I've never had any hand-eye coordination," I'll offer with a laugh. [This is not untrue - I'm kind of a klutz] Or, my favorite: "I guess I've never wanted to play sports because I'm just not very competitive." And then my nose grows FIVE FEET LONGER because that, my friends, is probably the biggest lie ever. Bigger than O.J.'s.
Regardless, although I can invent various excuses as to why I've never played sports, it doesn't change the fact that I have never played on a team (exception: sixth grade track...when I ran the mile...alone), and that when students ask me what sports I played in high school, my best option is "Varsity Choir," and in our world of fitness-philia, that makes me just a smidgen self-conscious. By which I mean I feel like a failure as a member of the human race, and probably the principle reason that the rate of childhood obesity is sky-rocketing. Because the world revolves around me - hadn't you heard? Not to mention that judging ourselves based on what we did or who we were in high school is always an excellent confidence-builder. AHEM.
So, seven years out of high-school, I've decided, at long last, to give myself a break. Nope, I didn't play sports when I was young. And nope, I have absolutely no desire to play them now. And that is OK. It doesn't mean I don't know how to exercise and take care of myself. In fact, after a six-year roller coaster ride of a relationship with over- and under-exercising, I think I've finally figured out a routine that works for me and that keeps me happy and interested.
I don't know how to end this post. Obviously I can't wish this insecurity away - petty as it may be. I can, however, admit that it is actually an insecurity, and that, at the end of the day, feeling insecure is no fun. Whether it's with my athletic in-laws or in front of a class of teenagers, feeling insecure sucks. But owning the insecurity - actually admitting that it's there and starting to deal with it - that's when I know I'm getting better. What a relief.