The Last Girl Picked (Embarrassing Pictures Included)

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 Surely some people liked gym class in school.  I, unfortunately, was not one of them.  It all started back in elementary school.  I was scrawny and uncoordinated – characteristics that ensured my place as the last one picked in every team activity.  I can still vividly recall playing coed kickball in the 5^th grade.  John B. was the roller – I was the kicker.  I kicked the ball and ran like a maniac toward 1^st base.  John promptly retrieved the ball and hurled it at my 70-pound frame.  You can probably guess the outcome.  The ball hit me so hard that I became airborne – and “out.”  The end of the physical activity was just the beginning of the fun otherwise known as the girls’ locker room.  We were required to completely disrobe in front of God and everybody and make a mad dash in and out of the group shower room – all under the watchful tutelage of the (female) teacher.  As everybody probably remembers, 4^th, 5^th and 6^th grade are pretty awkward body years.  Everybody matures at different rates and having your rate exposed to your peers (and the teacher) is about as pleasant as Aunt Gertrude’s tuna loaf. 

 

  

Fast forward to junior high school…all the same awkwardness as in elementary school, but with raging hormones thrown in for good measure.  I continued to be the last one picked for everything and tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible during coed activities.  One time during a game of softball, my friend, Jenny, and I picked the outfield position because we thought we wouldn’t have to do anything.  We were badly mistaken.  Shortly into the game, the ball rolled between us.  We argued about who was going to pick it up and throw it in (because we were embarrassed by our throwing skills, not because we were defiant or spiteful.)  Our teacher was very displeased by this situation – so much for being inconspicuous.  All of this pales in comparison to the humiliation that was square dancing.  In their infinite wisdom, the gym teachers had the girls go pick their square dancing spots first.  Then a loud bell would ring (bit of hyperbole there) and a stampede of hormone-infused boys thundered to the gym floor to make their selections.  Oh the agony of waiting and thinking, “Please don’t let it be the boy with sweaty hands…Please don’t let it be the reputed booger picker…Please let it be cute [insert crush name here].”  I won’t even delve into the sexist nature of that system.

 

Finally, we move on to high school.  With only one year required, it was short and sweet.  High school gym was much better for me because it included weight lifting and swimming – individual activities that didn’t mortify me.  The only drawback to swimming was that I had gym class 3^rd period and it took a long time to restore my 80’s bangs to full height!

Postlude: I lead a fit life, replete with individual activities such as bicycling, hiking and swimming.  I am also fearless in the locker room.  

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Tags: 80's, embarrassing photos, flashbacks