The Sunshine Post #17

Hello dears!

There are two things that Mexicans and Filipinos will happily argue about who has the better one: mangoes and boxing. As for the latter, it’s something I’ve found myself doing. Whoa, guys! I am temporarily retiring from yoga and taekwondo for a month. Gasp! It’s just for a short, experimental time, though. Due to the bad sprain I had in early March, I don’t think I should be kicking anything still. And yoga is really expensive. I think I’ve plateaued in both and wouldn’t mind doing something new.

I’m doing it in the school near the office, whose gym I went to years ago. It’s funny seeing the usual people: the university jocks who are older, the trainers who are (still) there. My trainer now, well, doesn’t take me seriously. In hindsight, I don’t blame him. Note to self, don’t wear your Happy Shirt on the first day of anything lethal! The one with the picture of the cookie and the milk carton holding hands, with one of them is saying “I love you!” The bright pink one. Uh huh. And I think I should stop smiling, too. They just read into it so much. Growl next time, for the love of God.

It was slightly better than my first (and only) boxing class in New York City. The trainer led me to the boxing ring. I stared at it, looked back at him, then asked, “Where’s the entrance?” Oops.

It’s been almost two weeks now. My trainer calls me “The Main Event.” He finds my punching so amusing for some reason, and he says that women are weaker. I think he enjoys making me suffer. How sadistic. How infuriating. Hmph. Maybe it’s deliberate; I end up so angry that I make my punches harder. I’m a bit afraid that I will accidentally hit him, but my subconscious will scream, “Yes!” I got neon pink hand wraps to further bother him. Plus they match a lot of what I own.

I’ve gotten much better; he actually falls into the ringside when I punch hard enough. And we play around by exchanging muay thai and taekwondo kicks. When I’m feeling exhausted and want to stall for time, I teach him hapkido moves. Woohoo!

Boxing is a great workout, but a bit barbaric. I like martial arts so much better, where respect is instilled in you from Day One. None of this “You’re a woman so you’re weaker” rubbish, which still is a bit stronger in Asia than in other places. That’s one thing I didn’t like, growing up in a largely patriarchal environment, and there are good and bad things to it. The men are on the whole very gentlemanly, but there are moments when I think whether they’re being gracious because they have a high regard for us, or because they really don’t think much of us. Sometimes I just stand there, seething with rage. I can kick your butt, and I’m taller than you, Oh Puny One. So there.

That’s another reason to love martial arts. Everyone is equal, and no one dares make more of what you say. Everything just… is. Argh. I miss my weapons, my yoga mat, doing poomsae, my martial arts masters in New York who became my therapists!! Two weeks down, two to go! I cannot wait to get back to yoga and taekwondo!!

Anyone think I’m a little hormonal today? Yeah, me too. I’m starting to rhyme; that’s a sure sign.


Lots of love,
Cathy