Horrible Sports Moments

Today was Super Bowl Sunday and I celebrated by chatting to friends, singing to my cats, and watching RuPaul's Drag Race Season 3. It was awesome.  I don't know who played, I don't know who won, and am content to remain blissfully ignorant of that. I really kind of hate sports.

Oh! The fat girl hates sports! Shocker!  No, really, it isn't because I'm lazy and disdain all things physical . . . well, not JUST that.  It's also because sports have pretty much always been a source of annoyance to horror for me. I thought, in honor of this sportful holiday, I would highlight some of these moments.

HORRIBLE MOMENTS OF SPORTS IN THE LIFE OF BHB

• When I was very young, I decided to play gymnast. I flipped over a swing and landed on the ground, neck first. I fractured my top two vertebra.
• When I was four, I tried to lift my father's barbells and smashed off the top of my finger.  Much blood and many stitches followed.
• At one point when I was five, my father was playing frisbee with me. It knocked me in the mouth and I lost a baby tooth. NOT one that was loose at the time.
• They forced me to play t-ball between my Kindergarten and 1st grade years. Ball busted me in the mouth. Not in a good way.
• I had to deal with smug, athletic children in grade school. Fuckers.
• Monkey bars.
• As a roundish child, people kept trying to make me do work out videos. 
• Elementary gym coaches, the male ones, who spoke no discernible language, just a series of grunts and yips, that everyone else seem to understand, but baffled the fuck out of me.  Goddamn those fuckers!  They could have been standing in front of me telling me I was lazy as hell, all I heard was "Yip hippa wohp woh wegh." 
• Elementary gym coaches, the female ones, who seem to have this personal hatred for little fat girls. You can try and tell me they were there to help all you want. It's bullshit. Those bitches wanted me to die. 
• Being forced to run laps, getting overheated and puking, then female coach claims I "faked it" and made me run more. I so should have puked on that bitch.
• Middle school gym lockers.
• In sixth grade, I fucked up my ankle, while in gym class, and the evil coach claimed I faked it. No, bitch, I did not fake it.  Bitch. 
• Dodge Ball.
• You know what? That deserves another entry. Dodge Ball.
• I think in almost everyone's life, one of the horror stories they have to connect to sports is dealing with high school jocks. Honestly, the last thing anyone needs at that point is a lumbering hoard of entitled date-rape-y fuckers who everyone caters to.  
• Stupidly not realizing that high school band means marching . . . at football games . . . and competitions. 
• High school coaches who try and teach classes.  Okay, some of them weren't so bad at this. Some of them were even great. However, the majority of them were still completely speaking some language I'd never heard. How the FUCK do you fill out a history exam when your notes over Coach Iteachhistory say, "Hibba wing wanv linga wazzla maz."

Wow, that's quite a list and I'm not even out of high school yet.  Anyway, you get the idea. When it comes to sports, I'm really one of these people way on the outskirts of the issue.

Actually, I'm the chick they drove out of the village. At least, I think that's what they were trying to say . . .