When we were invited to a croquet party, I was dubious about joining in. I’m not sporty, have zero depth perception, can’t aim, and hate keeping score.
Oh my, I do not sound fun at all, do I?
Games are not my thing.
But when “proper croquet attire” was mentioned, I was in. I’d watched Bridgerton, and I was ready to put on my best whites and grab my parasol to go be a spectator and have some good food, good friends and a glass of wine.
Before I knew it, I was sucked in, and realized that whacking that ball was more exciting than I thought it would be. Next thing I knew, I was vying for third place to move on to the championship round.
Well, I came in 4th, but my husband let me be his partner and I got to be in the final round with him.
We didn’t win, the title went to our buddy, Jim.
But I did receive two prizes! One for best dressed and for coming in second in the final round.
I think what pushed me over the edge to win for the costume were these magnificent, beaded tenny boppers. I’ve had them for at least 30 years, and only bring them out for very special occasions.
The dress was pretty cool too. I’d bought it to wear to Silverbella (I miss those so much!). That was fifteen years ago, and when I put it on this time, I realized it didn’t fit quite the same.
My poor bust was halfway down below the bodice, so the top of the gown wasn’t filled out right.
Oh well.
As I age, I don’t care too much about where my boobs are or how things fit. Which is good, because I have a feeling it just goes downhill from here. Literally. My chest will not be going back up to fill out any more bodices, this is as good as it gets.
And my sports acuity won’t be improving either. Enjoying what I can, whenever I can is what makes each day worth getting up for. I’m glad I didn’t put the pretty dress away because it made me look droopy. I’m glad I didn’t opt out of playing the game because I’m not good at hitting a ball.
Fun times are a gift that we have to open to enjoy. Or at least be open to.