Wednesday, January 21, 2009
YOU HAVE MORE GUT.
My Savate teacher told me point blank I am fat today.
In front of the whole class.
The class where I stand in the front row.
The class where I am the only girl.
Right before he started the warm up he looked at me, grabbed his own gut and said "I see you have more...somethingsomethingIcouldn'tunderstand". I suddenly felt five pairs of eyes behind me boring into the back of my apparently GIANT ASS. I almost choked but managed to laugh it off with a "hahaha oui....hahaha....oui".
hahaha yes...hahaha yes?
THAT'S my best comeback?!
OK, so I have kind of sort of been in denial that eating up to two galettes a day mixed with giant bowls of pasta at 11PM for weeks would have any physical effect on me whatsoever. And OK, so I have kind of sort of noticed that this past week my pants got like, kind of sort of really tight. Even my purple fat pants which were dug out of obscurity a few days ago. Then yesterday I rolled over in bed and I felt my stomach kind of sort of roll slightly AFTER the rest of me rolled over and I thought "hmmm, that's interesting". But a public humiliation seems to me a kind of sort of I don't know, HARSH way to break someone out of their denial.
I am taller than any of the French dudes in my class. And now, apparently, I am also wider. Throughout the warm up, my anger at my teacher, galettes, French dudes, French language, everything started to boil as I angrily double timed my sit ups like a crazy person, steam shooting from my ears. They were all talking about Obama and didn't even look at me and I couldn't understand what they were saying about him or the US and that made my rage even MORE palpable.
Here you all are talking about MY country and all any of you has to say to me is I AM FAT?!#$%@! Well, guess what, mofos? I AM fat and America frickin' RULES and so does BUTTER and FU if you think me and my cake rolls are gonna let this one slide by like bacon on my back fat.
While the French dudes leisurely made their way through sit ups, talking the whole time and pausing every so often to have more animated discussions I couldn't follow about the US and Obama, I stopped caring about understanding and tuned them out, pretended I was in the Marines and ripped through warm up like I was going for drill sergeant. As soon as warm up ended, adrenalin pumping and game face on, I sprinted to the locker room, pulled my gloves on, body slammed the heavy hanging bag twice on my way out and happily stepped onto the floor to work with my teacher.....
I hit him so hard at one point his contact flew out. But he seemed to really enjoy it and the harder I hit, the more he smiled and the more enraged I got so the harder I hit and the more he smiled and so on and so on. Towards the end of class I nailed a series of head kicks that sent him across the floor. As I bounced back across the room with my gloves up, I realized the class was silent. I looked up and saw five sets of eyes silently staring at me.
Breathing heavily, I stare back.
What are YOU lookin' at?
I notice no one is sweating.
Sweat drips off my brow and falls to the floor.
"Wusses", I think.
My teacher breaks the silence with "I think that's enough for today." Enough for who? My rage workouts last waaaaaay longer than just an hour, Teach. I wipe the sweat off, do 45 more minutes of weights in the weight room, grab my bag, put my best and brightest red lipstick on and roll myself right on out the door.
You mess with the bull, you're gonna get the horns, son.