Ok, friends, I have a confession to make. I’m not as badass as I thought I was. This confession has been difficult for me to accept but it’s time I hang it out to dry; air it out for all to see.
The manner in which I discovered that my spirit animal is not, in fact, a Great White Shark was a bit crushing. For my ego, at least. A few months ago I saw an ad on Facebook providing a discount at a local Krav Maga studio. I immediately paid $40 (yes, I selected the “Go Big or Go Home” package (that’s what she said) because I knew that this was my calling). I prepared my acceptance speech as I was sure to take home the award for Best Krav Maga Person Ever, packed my bag, and headed out for my first ever class. Also, I was preeeetty sure they’d ask me to teach my own class by the end of today’s class, which I was fully prepared to do, if the money was right.
A little history: I’ve been athletic in one form or another most of my life. I work out, know my way around a weight room, and, in my mind, can drop any 400-pound potential attacker with my pinky finger. Ok, that last part might be a tiny stretch. I might need my thumb. (That’s what she said.) Anyway, I was confident.
I walked in and signed the attendance list and waiver. The first fifteen minutes or so was “warm-up”. It was pretty intense but nothing I couldn’t handle. In my mind I sarcastically shouted “NEEEEXT!” and looked around the room in a patronizing way much like Lloyd Christmas looked at the undercover agent in the bar before he burped. You know, from Dumb & Dumber? No? Let’s just say I was totes ready for whatever came next.
What came next was partner work. Everyone else in the class knew each other and seemed like they already knew which partner they’d pick. And then there was me. Luckily the instructor shook things up a bit and partnered me with someone. A Ukrainian named Tatiana. Oh-kaaaay? This was my first indication that this might not be the best fit for me. Tatiana was about 15 pounds heavier than me (pure muscle, like the purest and strongest muscle I’ve ever seen) and the look on her face as she approached me was the same look my elementary school PE teacher gave me when my eight-year-old self explained why I would not be performing my forward roll. For the record, it was the ‘80’s and I spent too much time fluffing my feathered bangs with Aquanet to risk them falling for a “forward roll”.
Anyway, the instructor gave the order for one partner to put on gloves and the other to get the mitt. I got the gloves first. Then she started calling out moves. The punches I nailed with the precision of Caitlyn Jenner’s pee stream after wacking off his peenie. Got it in the bowl but kinda all over the place. “Ok, I can do this. Wait, which one did she just call? Daaam I’m lost. Cross, hook, elbow, elbow, what? Oh, I like that girl’s shirt. I wonder wher- Huh? Dang, time to switch. Wait, how did everyone get their gloves off so fast?? Oh Dear Lord Baby Jesus mine are stuck.”
Then it was Tatiana’s turn for the gloves. “I should get a break. I think I just stand here with the mitt and do nothing… good I can kind of chill out and- OUCH!!!!! Damn! Does she have fists of iron? Why does she hate me?” All things running through my head in the first 5 seconds. Didn’t get much better from there. But I did learn a valuable lesson:
I don’t need an AncestryDNA test to uncover that I don’t have the DNA of a Doberman Pinscher. I have the DNA of a cute, tiny little squirrel. Not even the flying kind. Just a normal, run of the mill squirrel. Isn’t that a devastating blow?!
I haven’t been back. I was so sore after that first class that I couldn’t move for about a week so by the time it wore off and I was able to function again, the excitement wore off. Now I’m just too busy. I have my family, my comedy, my hair needs a good washin’. I got stuff that needs me. I could use that $40 back but that’s ok. We’ll call it even. In the meantime I’ll stick to running.