the real girls in the room

today in boxing class i watched a guy that was much bigger and stronger than me hit the bag like a total girl. he didn't put his body into it. he didn't pivot. he just threw his arm forward repeatedly in an almost absent-minded way, like a little kid. he had this stupid grin on his face while it was happening, like he knew what he looked like. and he certainly seemed to care but it couldn't be helped.

oh, yeah. and he had chicken legs.

he had a friend with him, who was just as big and strong and goony as he was, and who hit the bag the same way that he did. his friend wasn't smiling. he was watching the women in the room and the way their punches landed with impact and power. neither of them were really working hard with all of the cardio that keeps you exhausted and out of breath and on your last leg. squats. sit-ups. push-ups, endless push-ups. once things became a strain, they backed off and did the minimum -- the way some girls do, that don't want to sweat their perms out or whatever.

sparring with the boxing instructor made chicken legs giggle. i remember thinking, he's such a chick. i wonder if these two will come back?

george (my boxing instructor) is 100% right. boxing isn't the exclusive domain of men because they have more testosterone or whatever. it's all a matter of technique. either you know how to fight or you don't. the guys who don't know what they're doing are the real girls in the room.

i don't know why i want this so much. because i'm learning so much, all at once. because my body is changing. because it's fun, and when something is fun, it's not work -- especially when it is work. because it's a useful skill. because i have more stamina, overall. because when i do it right, it's like dancing -- and when i do it really well, it's like dancing and flying at the same time.