Of rugby, sore muscles and growing old

I had the worst sore muscles over the weekend, and no, I didn't get it from playing rugby. I got it from watching the game.

The Rugby 7's game came to Singapore on April 8 & 9 at the National Stadium. The overly excited husband managed to get some free tickets and dragged me to the game on Apr 8. And the kids (admission is free for kids) also tagged along because we were all going out for dinner after the last match. Because it had rained for most part of the day, when we got to the gallery, the seats were all wet and damp.

And so, because I didn't want to get my jeans wet, I decided to "perch" at the edge of my seat and held that position for the almost four hours we were there. Hence, my entire body weight were placed on that back muscle. Nice.

The entire time we were there, I realised how old I feel. There were so many kids - they didn't look older than 18 - at the game. And I could not help but gawk at what they were wearing, or rather the lack of it. I mean, that 3 inch piece of denim that she's wearing is a skirt? And is that her red bra strap showing up beneath her too-small almost transparent spaghetti strap top? Too much make-up and too little clothes, I said to myself.

And the smooching that took place, in between beer and cigarettes, yucks.

Like I said, I am growing old... and I was happy to be a rugby widow on Apr 9 when the husband went ahead to catch the second day of the game.