Obviously You’re Not a Golfer


Soooo… some girlfriends and I decided we should start a bowling league and tonight was our first match/game/meet/thing.

I should probably start by stating there’s a REALLY good chance I’m going to become a bowling coach. My bowling is ridiculously on point. Like I can hit BOTH gutters, same roll. I’m THAT good. In fact, tonight… I bowled a 165. Granted that was the total of my three games combined, but still, a pretty solid showing if I do say so myself.

Now, admittedly I had a few obstacles to deal with that may or may not have affected my game. For example – Right Tit. Right tit absolutely REFUSED to stay in my bra. Like “Nope, not gonna happen” total and utter rebellion. You may recall I mentioned losing some weight this year, well over the holidays I took advantage of all the sales and bought a few new bras (smaller ones—you bastard boobs) that fit better. My lovely little handfuls seemed perfectly perky and pleasant pushed into a plunge-style lady-contraption so I bought four of the same exact bra, different colors/patterns, and called it good. All has been fine until…tonight. Apparently the spasmatic contortions I work my upper body into whilst hurling the ball toward the pins, combined with the snug fit of the plunge bra, work together as an instant launch mechanism shooting my boob (singular, not plural) out of my bra. You read that correctly – only the one boob. Right Tit, I’m guessing due to its proximity to my bowling arm, is the only one affected by this phenomenon.

Sooo basically all night I was focused on finding ways of nonchalantly shoving Right Tit back into my bra without people seeing… A task much easier said than done considering subtly tends to be my arch nemesis and my superior bowling techniques seemed to be drawing a lot of attention. I like to think people were impressed with my slow-motion, full body involvement that flung the ball every-which way, while kicking my leg out in rockette fashion, but in hindsight… it could have been that I was basically feeling myself up after EVERY. SINGLE. FRAME.

Another obstacle I had to deal with was getting my ball in the correct lane. WAY easier said than done.

IN MY DEFENSE… We were playing “traditional league play”—which turns out to mean you switch lanes with your lane-mates (team next to you) every frame. #CONFUSING… Since everyone on my team has maintained our amateur status, we had no idea what any of the rules meant so we simply nodded and smiled when “traditional league play with lane switch” was mentioned… it didn’t actually occur to us to ask WHAT that really meant. I found out on my second frame when I had the unfortunate pleasure of knocking down most of the pins (WINNING) and, during my celebratory boob-tucking dance, discovered that leaving one solitary pin on each side of the lane does not actually entail a winning roll AND, more importantly, I’d actually just bowled for the guy on the team in the lane next to us… You know, the team that was pretty serious about league night and apparently didn’t want to pick up my sloppy split. Suffice it to say I had to do some work to win over our lane-mates after that rough start. Fortunately Right Tit was all about being the Welcome Wagon. (Note to self—must find a more athletic bra… that’s a thing right?)

Well, I have a week to improve my game. I’m not too worried. I have a practice set that pretty much lets me bowl anywhere…

FullSizeRender (2)


xoxo, Awkward Jean


Actual Text from Tonight

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