Being Attacked by a Mad Cow > Badminton

Who invented badminton? Whoever it was, I'd love to have a few choice words with them.* Wikipedia says it is a real sport, but I beg to differ. My teachers always tell me wikipedia is the website of the devil anyway**, so I refuse to believe its contents.

*If you are a fan of badminton, even the slightest bit, you might want to stop reading this, because it's about to get ugly.

**that is, wikipedia and google translate, of course. Ironic because google translate was one of my only vices my first couple days in France.

Definition according to Wiki: "Badminton is a racquet sport that is between two players (singles) or pairs (doubles), placed in two half-sites separated by a net . Players called badistes ^[1] , score points by hitting a drive with a racket to make him fall in the attacking half. The exchange ends when the wheel touches the ground."

Definition according to me: "Badminton is France's haughty- taughty version on tennis, created simply to aggravate American exchange students in gym class."

If you think I simply have an excessive amount of animosity towards something as insignificant as a gym activity, you're wrong. I have an UNHEALTHILY INSANE amount of hatred towards every monday morning from 11:00- 12:00 pm, when I am forced to 'participate' in this mockery of my hand- eye coordination.

^^^ The fact that my raquet has a 'smile' on it is also quite misleading, seeing as smiling is the absolute LAST thing I think of doing when I see it.

And no. My hatred does not only stem from the fact that I'm the laughing stock of my class... or maybe that's entirely it. I'm not completely aware of the reason myself.

I don't think it's from embarrassment, because I learned a long time ago how much easier life becomes when you can laugh at yourself. When I was younger, someone told me to 'never take yourself too seriously.' That's great advice, but somehow over the years, I changed that advice into 'don't take anything seriously. At all. Ever.' But that's another one of my character flaws that I won't get into right this moment. But I digress, being the laughing stock of gym is not what gets me.

Maybe it's how hard French people defend the activity that irks me. A piece of advice: DO NOT diss badminton in front of a french teenage badminton champion. Nothing good will come of it. In their heads, no American sport can ever compare. And believe me, I tried them all. But alas, that's not the reason either.

I've been lucky. No, I can't say I've ever been the best at any one given sport. But I can say that I've tried them all, or nearly all, which has played to my advantage many times in previous gym classes. No, Suchoza never picked me to be the captain of the basketball team, but I was never one of the last 5 girls against the wall that nobody wanted on their dodgeball team, either.

Interestingly enough, I can honestly say that gymnastics is the sport that has come in the most handy for me in the past.

"Are you the dorky, awkward, 4- eyed, brace- faced girl? Do you want friends more than anything in the whole world? The solution to your problems is simple! Throw a random backhandspring on the pushup mats, or nonchalantly walk around the gym or your hands. It works like a charm!"

^^^ And it really does. Even in France. After last monday's gym class, guess who has friends now? THIS GIRL.

I've always had a natural ability to be mediocre at every sport, and as sad as it is, I'm proud of that.

Yes, this is definitely the root of my animosity. I realize now why I couldn't pin in to one thing: because I couldn't admit to myself that I suck.

I may not have been able to admit it, but the results in my gym teacher's grade book don't lie. 34 students. 33rd highest score? Payton Mummau. 34th? Some girl who's only been to class one time in the past 8 weeks.

My mediocre ability is failing me, and I never thought I'd see the day that this would happen. And it's devestating. Going from being the girl who did 16 pull- ups during the 5th grade Presidential Physical Fitness Test, to the girl who can't serve to save her life, is unbearable.

You may be wondering why I care so much about that trivial matter, and why I'm treating it like the end of the world.

Well, because it is the end of the world. My world. Gym class is one of the only things in my life in which I'm not separated from everyone else by a language, and now it's ruined.

Of course, I'm only being melodramatic. I'm just living my golden rule: 'don't take anything seriously. At all. Ever.' I enjoy making a fool out of myself, in all honesty. That being said, I can't help but wish these next 3 weeks before the new gym unit would pass a little bit faster...