Sport is…
Sport is waking up at 7 in the morning to play tennis.
… going back to bed at around 12 from sheer exhaustion.
… waking up later and feeling blue enough not to change out of jammies.
… running out the house late because sartorial choices were overwhelming.
… repeated right arm lifting a champagne glass to the lips.
… finger fatigue from rapid SMSing.
… cheek and mouth pain from multiple kissings.
… repeated jabbing at name on list while girl with the fake tits pretends (or not) to be illiterate.
… running very fast out of a party at the news of another party on the other side of town.
… smoking on the Metro just because.
… getting into a raging exclusive Colette party by telling the doorman the other party sucked. (He didn’t even bother looking at the list)
… krunking and bopping for hours
… body surfing the bar
… jumping up and down and up and down off the runway.
… practicing graceful falls on the dancefloor.
… arm lifting glass to mouth filled with vodka.
… both arms lifting glass to mouth filled with vodka.
… arms in the air. arms swinging out.
… falling ungracefully into bed.
I’m covered in bruises from yesterday’s sports. It’s great to be a world class athlete.
