Boobs!

Yesterday, I decided my muscle sprain had had enough time to heal and scheduled a full day of golf with our friends Chris and Janice.

Per usual, there’s a backstory. Chris and Janice are great golfers, definitely the best I play with. Janice is also the reason I’m still torturing myself with this game. At the end of last season, I was done. Done done done. I sucked, I wasn’t getting better, and I was ready to chuck my clubs in a pond. But she convinced me not to give up, and thus began this golf experiment. I’m sure she meant well. 🤣

So, yesterday I was excited to show off my Smooth and Easy swing. Chris and Janice were going to be so proud of me! But instead of my newfound rhythm showing up, my crazy brain did, and it was another day of disappointment. No need for a play-by-play. Suffice to say my mantra went from “Smooth and Easy” to “I’m Gonna Hit This Mother Heffer” real quick.

When it was all over, we went to the Bahama Bar to watch the last few rounds of The Players tournament. At some point, Chris mentioned that I bend over way too much in my setup. That sounded familiar because Brian had said the same thing. I had been trying to stand up straighter lately, but did I think about it even once during this round? Nope. Not until the game was over and Chris reminded me. Then, of course, I ruminated on it like a normal, well-adjusted person.

Later, while I was doing slow-mo swings in the shower (don’t look at me like like that … I know you do it too), it hit me: Boobs!

I don’t know if you have them or not, but I do. When I first started playing a few years ago, I watched an LPGA pro interview where she said women should position their arms over their breasts in the setup. So that’s what I’ve always done. I realized, standing naked in the shower, that when I do that, my hands get pushed way out in front.

Another correction I’d been told to make was to get my hands under my chin and closer to my body. But when my arms are stuck in front of me, I’m forced to bend way over to make that happen. And just like that, another fundamental flaw uncovered—one that pretty much guarantees a good swing can’t happen.

So next time I go out, I’m going to work on keeping my arms on the sides of my breasts and squeezing those puppies together. This should naturally bring my hands closer to my body and allow me to stand up straighter.

I guess the moral of this story is: if a woman gives you golf advice that involves her boobs, check out her chest size. No two sets are the same, and apparently, neither are their setup instructions.