Golf Balls and Fox Paws: Not ‘Fore’ Me
In fact, when shopping alone with no friend to consult, I often buy right off the mannequin, accessories included. But, I always think I look okay. Just okay though. I know this because some days I get compliments on how great- or even stunning- I look! This means that I do not look great or stunning everyday. But, I don’t need to. I like the compliments when my outfit says ‘wow.’ If I looked ‘wow’ everyday, I’d have a high standard to uphold, and that’s not me. What I am trying to say is that I always try to dress for the occasion.
Work: Business-casual. (At press time) I work at a school in the admissions department. Don’t want to look too professional, as I may intimidate my students. But, I still ring of professionalism. I even make sure that I throw down $2.99 per pair on the pharmacy brand pantyhose to adhere to the company policy on no bare legs. Of course, these are always bought en route to work in a rather rushed manner when I realize I have none clean, or none free of runners visible to the public.
Going Out: I always make sure that my outfits accentuate my curves. Enough said.
Cleaning: It’s funny- I always get dressed up to clean, and somehow make myself still appear cute. I find my rattiest tank or baby doll tee and sweatpants and put my hair up in a high ponytail and wear a bandana.
Play: To me, fun is synonymous with dirty. I grew up in the country- the Pocono Mountains in Northeast Pennsylvania to be exact. When I went out to play, it was not in a neatly arranged park with wood chips to break my fall, nor on a quiet suburban street with neatly aligned sidewalks and perfectly manicured lawns. No- in the country- I played in the woods. Streams, ponds, trees, dirt, mud, bugs, snakes. That’s what the country is to me. So, mom always had me wear my jeans and a t-shirt. Those are my fun clothes and still are at age 26.
That leads me to my story- but you needed the background to understand who I am. I am from the country. I am laid-back girl who likes to have a good time. So, when opportunity arises, I raise my hand. Like this most recent outing:
My boss inadvertently signed up to play in a golf tournament with her ad rep for a local TV station in their annual event on the same week she was going on vacation with her husband. Since I had once hit it off with him, as well as some other clients, at a baseball game luxury box event, she suggested that I attend.
I had to think it over for several seconds before I agreed to the paid day out of the office, where I could not only have all the free beer I wanted at some holes, but I could also have beer at a few more. I had never golfed before on a real course, but plenty of times at miniature golf courses. I have never even smacked around balls at a driving range, but figured this outing would introduce me to the pastime. I always did well at other games of aim, such as bowling, darts and beer pong, a skill that could surely relate somehow to golf. And besides, if all else failed, I knew I was an expert at drinking beer. Also, I figured I’d be the girl who people would dote on since it was my first time.
Apparently, if I knew the term for what was lower than novice, that’d be me. Maybe it is because it all happened so fast, or maybe I did not pay nearly enough attention to the scenery in Happy Gilmore as I did to Adam Sandler’s humor. And, maybe it is because I avoided movies like Tin Cup and The Legend of Bagger Vance and instead opted for the latest thriller or ‘good old’ days’ comedy. But whatever the reason- I was totally oblivious to fashion in the realm of golf.
The morning of the event brought gloomy weather, so I decided against shorts. Always trying to network, I threw on a white, collared polo with my school’s logo embroidered on it. Everyone would know who I represented! Perfect! Since I decided against shorts, I tossed between Capri’s and pants. I decided to bottom the outfit off with a cute pair of Old Navy jeans and white sneakers. I made that choice because it was a day off from the office and I was going to have fun. Remember, fun to me is not good and clean- it’s about getting dirty. I figured I’d be slicing up dirt, fetching balls in the woods and spilling beer on myself when the golf cart went over a bump. Why on Earth would I wear something nice? Yes, my comfy denim seemed to fit the day of fun I anticipated. I kissed my boyfriend- who by the way is also from the country- goodbye. He said I looked cute and that he loved me. What a nice sendoff for what happened next.
I arrived at the country club a little early, to find I was one of the first to arrive. I ran into the sales rep I’d be teaming with, who greeted me with a smile and directed me to the sign-in area. I was given a goodie-bag with golf balls, tees, a towel with the station logo and some other swag from the shows they air, and it was all in a duffle bag with their network logo. I then followed the flow of golfers into a beautiful lounge, with a spread of danishes, bagels, muffins, coffee and orange juice. I helped myself to a banana nut muffin and a coffee and recognized two fun ad agency people I had met at the baseball game. We caught up and talked about our weekends. I told them how I went quad riding all weekend with my boyfriend and his friends, and as it turns out, they had just wrote a jingle for a local ATV dealer. I felt like I fit in, like I always do. I always light up a room.
Today was different. Oh, I still lit up the room, but in another manner. As more people arrived, I realized that in a sea of brown- dozens of shades of brown: khaki, tan, chestnut, coffee, beige, nut, rust, hazel- you get the idea, I was the only one in blue. I felt embarrassed by my fox paw. I know, it’s faux pas- a slip or blunder in etiquette, or an embarrassing social error- but once as I kid, I mispronounced it ‘fox paws’ and continue pronounce it that way to humor myself. Adding to my blue bottoms was now a very red face, and with my white polo (which had a collar by they way!) I looked like an American flag. Only, freedom- of attire- was not ringing.
I made a joke about my fox paw to the cool folks from the agency and the sales rep, all of who supported me- to my face. The female agency person commented that at least I had my logo on, and told her partner that they really need to get some of their own. I felt a little better. The sales rep asked if I wanted to go practice. I said sure, and followed him out to the carts. He asked if I had my clubs. Clubs? At that point, I knew I was in trouble. I guess I thought this was more of an outing, and I was never asked if I had clubs, or told what to wear since I was attending last minute, representing my company in place of my boss who was somewhere better than I at the moment. And, I never thought to ask. Again, I was made very comfortable, as he joked that while against the rules, he’d let me borrow his. So, he, the male ad agency person and I headed to the driving range.
I was getting a quick lesson on how to hold a club when a very well dressed woman came up and asked, “Are you playing today,” is a tone that made me uneasy on how to answer. At first, I thought she was from the TV station. When I told her I was, she responded, “I can’t have you on my course in those,” as she pointed to my cute pair of jeans. She did inform me that there were shorts on sale at the pro shop. I told her I’d go home and change. First of all, I did not have much money on hand, and even if I did, I would not buy any clothing from the pro shop that I would probably only wear once. I’d be more descriptive at this point to tell you what I placed against the bench before my walk of shame back to my car, but I am not quite sure what it was. A putter? Nine-iron?
The sales rep felt bad, but I assured him I’d be back by tee time, and in fact, told him that my Capri’s were actually still out on my bed from the morning’s earlier bad decision. I drove all the way home and changed, but on the way back to the country club, I began to think. Country club. I am from the country. And people like me wear jeans. And, like me, the country people are laid back and nice. How then, did it ever get the name country club- when a dress code is strictly enforced and those naÃ?¯ve to it are criticized? And, why do people get dressed up to have fun?
I called the sales rep on his cell phone and asked if it would be too much trouble for me not to return. I explained that I was already made a spectacle of, and would be even more embarrassed to come back. He said it’d be fine, and that other people did not show up, so a foursome could still be made. He apologized over and over again, and said that this was their event and they had the course for they day, and we should have been able to golf naked if we wanted. I commented that I would return only in this instance, but he couldn’t promise that, so I decided to spend that day doing other things, like getting dirty in my jeans in the real country. I reminded him how much fun I was at his last event, and I think he agreed I was more of a hotdog, beer and baseball kind of girl.
Golf is for many people. But of my horrific experience, comes the realization that golf is not a sport, lifestyle nor wardrobe for me:
Tee: Only with lemon please.
Hole: Only if it’s watering so I can drink there
Club: Only if I can dance there.
Wedge: Only if it’s for answering a question in Trivial Pursuit.
Swing: Only if it’s on my front porch on a lazy summer day.
Caddy: Only if it’s in my shower holding my soap and razor.
Green: Only if it’s in my wallet.
Slice: Only with pepperoni and extra cheese.
Turf: Only if it’s accompanied by Surf.
Iron: Only if I’m pumping it at the gym.
Clubhouse: Only if it’s in a tree house with a sign stating there’s ‘no boys allowed.’
Dimples: Only if they are from my smile. (Or on his buttocks.)
Birdie: Only if it’s in the feeder in my backyard.
Hook: Only if it’s on my fishing line with a worm stuck to it.
Drive: Only if my destination is somewhere other than a country club.
GOLF: Only if it’s a Volkswagen
About the Author:
Donna Talarico has still never golfed in her life. (She thinks it would be fun to drive a golf cart though.) She thinks country clubs have good muffins, and was thankful she did not fit in, for this piece would never have been concocted.
