So I’ve been taking golf lessons.
And everything I’d been doing right up to this point is now broken.
It took me almost two years to find an affordable, non-creepy instructor (and the time to dedicate to weekly lessons), and at first it was smooth sailing. He was impressed with what I’d managed to teach myself from obsessively watching the pros and The Golf Fix. I had a “decent” swing, and he kept telling me that only one or two things needed to be tweaked for me to be Michelle Wie-ing every ball.
And for the love of all that is holy, TWEAKED.
And you know what I have now? A very confused golf swing.
Before, I was impressed when I drove upwards of 200 yards, even if the tail-end of the path curved VIOLENTLY to the right. (Which it did most of the time) (All of the time)
And at the range, other women would routinely compliment me, saying they’d like to hit like me. I would usually brush off the praise with a comment about how it was a lucky shot, but my ego was like, “HELL YES, I AM A GOLF GODDESS.”
Even then, I knew vast improvements needed to be made, but my thought process was that the distance was great, and the straight path would come with practice.
Don’t mind me, I’m both naive and an imbecile, apparently.
Now, with all the thinking and mechanics I have going on when I swing, I probably look like I’m having a hemorrhagic stroke on the way to the ball. Everything is off. The rhythm. The rotation of my hips. I either bring my hands around too fast or I don’t shift my weight entirely to my left foot so my balance is off.
I suck at golf worse AFTER lessons than I did before them.
Realistically speaking, I’m the same skill level if not slightly better, but because I know what I’m doing wrong now, I’m much more inclined to get frustrated. Before, hitting an entire bucket without whiffing the ball was a success worthy of an ice cream cone and a beer.
Now, even though my misses are more consistent and my good shots (though few and far between) are actually legitimately impressive, I’m lucky if I can hit three shots in a row that look the same. Not only that, but I can generally feel or see what I did wrong, which just adds one more thing to the checklist in my already-crowded brain when I take the next swing.
I’m broken. My swing is broken.
I’m also a hugely competitive person. When I have a bad practice session at the range, I’m less inclined to come back the next day for more self-inflicted torture. I also have a reputation to uphold: my nickname at the driving range is Mighty Mouse, and that title can’t be held by someone hitting her 8-iron farther than her driver because she’s in the middle of a swing adjustment.
Logically, I realize the breakdown of my swing will result in a better game. I get that, jeez, you don’t have to lecture me. But instant gratification is kind of my thing. So I’m having an intense love/hate relationship with golf right now.
It only took two years.
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