My stupid leg is injured

It is apparent that southern recreational tennis serves a much higher purpose than just exercise. I recently tore a muscle in my right calf....not playing tennis, but it's still torn. The Orthopedic Surgeon told me it would take about 2 months to re-attach to the tendon and strengthen enough to play tennis again. Even then, there is a high risk of it being re-torn, so I have to be very careful about easing back into my sport.

I have now sat out of matches for about 6 weeks. My temper seems to be flaring more frequently than normal, my patience is non-existent and I may or may not have put on about 15 pounds. Don't know because I refuse to find out for sure. The fit of my clothing, however, strongly hints at the expansion of my girth (pardon my girth). I'm bored and sulky and petulant.

Last week, I went to watch my team play their women's doubles match and smoked about 87 cigarettes on the sidelines, just itching to get out there and swing my racket. My regular doubles partner played with someone else. I was supportive but remained resentful on the inside. Oooh, I wanted to be the one to make my partner laugh when she got upset at the tiny woman cheating across the net from her. I wanted to be the one to change the opponents' baseline game to one of fear and defense. I wanted to be the one to receive the perfect setup shot returns from my partner's strategic game and instinctively slam it down with the skill of a Misty May volleyball smackdown.

Will I do all that when I get to play again? Not hardly. Sometimes. My game is off just as often as any other recreational tennis player. But I'll tell you this: It is a far, far better match I have played terribly than sitting my ass on my couch watching marathons of America's Next Top Model. Right now, I'm transitioning quickly from 'Hard to Kidnap' to 'Yeah, she's kinda fat, isn't she?' I want to wear my tennis skirt and my raggedy tennis shoes and my lucky sweat-stained visor and beat the dog out of those spoiled country club women with perfect husbands cheering and perfect ponytails swishing, all with blinding yellow balls on a hot, blue court under a ragweed Georgia sky. Look out ladies...my calf is healing.