My body hurts

“Adrian Brody” and I were the only Jiu Jitsu students one day, so we were partners by default. The dude barely touched me. Either I said something about not needing to take it so easy, or Instructor did, or both.

Adrian said, “I don’t want to hurt [infinitesimal pause] anyone.”

Clearly, “anyone” meant me. He wasn’t in danger of hurting the instructor. Reminder: Instructor is my size, though a smidge taller and with bigger biceps. At my first class, I was distracted by the realization that a man could have legs as skinny as mine.

Adrian is skinnier still.

So, Adrian was taking it easy on me, when maybe it should’ve been the other way around. *I* don’t hold back, however, because I’m a girl.

Wanna know who else doesn’t hold back? The teenage girl I naturally paired with during a rare evening class.

She. Trounced. Me.

Are you reading this, MOM?! That’s right–the men are nice to me. The female beat me up! [My mother gives me a hard time in the comments about training with men.]

Seriously, this girl may have bruised a rib. Or I pulled a muscle trying to get away from her. She’s not even a big girl, by any means, but this chic knows her stuff. I want to be like her when I grow… well, never mind.

The last portion of class was a “practice what you know”/ free for all. She was twisting me this and way that before I knew WHAT was happening. She ended with trapping my arm painfully out from my side.

“Whoa. What was that move?” I asked her.

“The Americana.”

“Isn’t that a type of coffee?” was my first thought, which I wisely kept to myself.

I’m mostly healed from her onslaught now, btw. Mostly.

In more recent classes, which fortunately do not include Rockstar Teenage Girl, I’ve been paired with “Timmy.” I’ll call him that because it’s close to his real name, and I’m using it ironically, like Tiny Tim because this guy is huge. Not fat, thankfully, but somewhere beyond 6’3″. When Instructor demos with Timmy, I can barely see Instructor underneath those tree-length arms and legs.

I needed to hook my foot around Timmy’s knee, but had a hard time finding it since it was five miles away. But training with Timmy is good experience if I’m ever in a street fight with André the Giant.*

Westley took him down with a rear naked choke, so maybe I could too.

Last Thing: I was running late to class when I was stopped at a green light behind a driver who wasn’t paying attention. I honked. (It was warranted.) He looked up, saw the green, and looked back down to finish his text, or whatever, before he moved.

I yelled, “Come on, man! I’ve got a$s to kick!”

Just kidding. I wrote that for the blogger who commented on an earlier post, “Just take the earrings out and go kick some ass!” 🙂

When I stopped by the library after class, a white-haired woman gestured to my gi top and said, “This is nice. It looks like it’s for something.”

“Jiu Jitsu,” I told her.

“Well, it’s pretty.”

Yep. Pretty. ‘Cuz that’s the look I’m going for. ;P

Have a great day, friends. Thanks for reading!

*And yes, I know André the Giant is deceased.