There’s a reason I don’t do yoga.
It takes me the first 20 — very awkward — minutes of class to stop competing.
Yes, I compete. In yoga.
“Think 6’2 girls can’t do half lotus crow pose? Watch this, suckas.”
Then, there’s UNO. It’s a family favorite that often includes my 9-year old niece. Screw teachable moments about numbers and colors and us all being winners. Bring your A-game, kid, ‘cuz Aunt Kate came to play.
I’m not ashamed to say that when my niece holds down her cards, I look. Judge me if you want but the kid’s gotta learn.
That’s my teachable moment.
In fairness, I do this to all my family members. Even my 93-year old great aunt. “The ol’ dementia excuse again, Aunt Bernice? Put in your teeth and play.”
My competitive nature isn’t limited to athletics or activities. I have a little game I play at the grocery store called, “My Cart is Healthier than Yours.”
It goes like this: I look at what’s in your cart and compare it to what’s in mine. Whoever has the healthier basket, wins.
True story: I once sent a segment idea to Oprah suggesting she show up at random grocery stores to see what people had in their carts.
Great idea, right?
O didn’t think so. But, had she shown up at my grocery store, my cart would have won. I just know it.
My competitiveness was recently pointed out by three different friends. My initial response was truly surprise. While it’s something I know about myself, I didn’t realize it was so obvious to others.
(You mean they knew I was competitive when I told my niece to quit her cryin’ and Draw Two? That is so weird.)
I may be a (ridiculous) competitor but I’m also a gracious loser. Don’t get me wrong, I do the victory lap around my mom’s kitchen after the family UNO throw down. Sometimes I even throw in an Arsenio Hall fist pump.
But, if you beat me, you beat me. I’ll congratulate you. Then, I’ll start plotting ways to take you down next time.