So many Barbies, so little time
I’m calling to ask when you’ll be coming back. Ever since you announced your sabbatical, my hubby has been playing and replaying his favorite Tiger moments from the Golf Channel: The Players Championship, the Arnold Palmer Invitational, the Dubai Desert Classic and so on. The more he hears about you taking time off from the sport, the more Tiger moments he watches.
You know what he told me yesterday? That presumably you paid some Madame $60K or so, I forget the amount, for a “sexcapade” with five women. I think he said five.
I told my viejo “Stop it. ¿Qué te importa? There are more important things to be worried about.” His response? Psychobabble along the lines of “He’s been overprotected his entire life, and now that his father is dead he doesn’t know how to deal with the pressure of being the richest and most talented athlete in the world … He has been told to be in control his entire life and I feel sorry for him.” With this newfound information, my viejo feels as if he’s cracked the DaVinci Code. As it turns out, he says, that’s why you like Nike so much; the slogan is perfect for someone with control issues: Just do it. It’s so you, he says, like the Nike SasQuatch Tour 8.5° drivers and Nike SasQuatch 2 15° woods he got after you used them at the Wachovia tournament last year. Or was it the year before that? I tell my viejo it’s not “the magician’s wand” but the “magician” who performs the tricks.
Speaking of tricks, someone who’s not happy with your act is columnist Eugene Robinson, from the Washington Post. Robinson, who happens to be black, is also interested, like my husband, in psychoanalyzing you. He takes issue with your taste in women. He asks, “What’s with the whole Barbie thing? He insists all the chicas you allegedly have had affairs with look so much like Barbie that “Mattel could sue for trademark infringement.”
But get this. The writer is not so much disappointed with your “transgressions” but with the fact you didn’t “transgress” with women of color. Robinson says, “This may be the most interesting aspect of the whole Tiger Woods story – and one of the most disappointing. He seems to have been bent on proving to himself that he could have any woman he wanted. But from the evidence, his aim wasn’t variety but some kind of validation.… If adultery is really about the power and satisfaction of conquest, Woods’s self-esteem was apparently only boosted by bedding the kind of woman he thought other men lusted after – the ‘Playmate of the Month’ type that Hugh Hefner turned into the American gold standard.”
He goes on. “But the world is full of beautiful women of all colors, shapes and sizes – some with short hair or almond eyes, some with broad noses, some with yellow or brown skin. Woods appears to have bought into an ‘official’ standard of beauty that is so conventional as to be almost oppressive.”
And then he concludes, “His taste in mistresses leaves the impression of a man who is, deep down, both insecure and image conscious.”
Ouch! What does this mean? That you are a “coconut”? OMG! Does this make my viejo a secure man by virtue of appreciating my “unconventional” beauty? This is both sad and funny. Or perhaps it’s sad because it’s funny, or the other way around, since humor can be used as a tool to correct social vices.
I feel like saying something positive here, but nothing comes to mind, other than to quote Newt Gingrich, who in a totally different context once said, “If you strive to be a perfect minority, you’ll never be a majority.” Maybe that’s a Freudian slip and deep inside I’m oppressed, too, and I’m agreeing with Robinson and Gingrich. Oh, my! I better go now.