Friday, February 18, 2005

In this corner

In my usual Friday morning class at the gym, we were throwing hooks. Our instructor was harping on us to exercise a little bit of good boxing form, even though it is more likely that one of the stay-at-home moms in the class would find a cure for AIDS while cooking macaroni and cheese than it is that any of us would end up in a legitimate fight.

So he’s bitching into his microphone, per usual, telling us to bring our hands back up to our cheekbones after we punch. Doing so protects a boxer (and rich hoes who work out at a swanky, boxing-inspired gym) from getting clocked in the face.

He tells us to keep our hands up every class. I’ve been listening to that lecture (over eardrum-rupturing techno, mind you) for 10 months. But for some unknown reason, I decide that I’m going to listen. And really, really concentrate on keeping my fists up at my cheeks.

I totally succeeded in pulling my hand back up to my face.

But I seem to have missed the portion of the instruction where we were told not to whip our glove back up so forcefully that we crack ourselves in the face.

Ignorant to this information, I brought my hands up, just like a good little boxer.

And jacked myself right in the grill.

Story of my life.

4 comments:

Mrs. Architect said...

*completley* something I would do!

slow poke kate said...

geez...

It must be cool in knowing that if it came to it, you could in fact kick your own ass...

Well done you.

Plantation said...

Clint told Hilary, "Protect yourself at all times." Keep your hands up means essentially the same thing. Wise advise.

Anonymous said...

Hahaha. Fantastic. I used to box...My problem? I was totally okay with getting hit, you know, I'm tough. Sort of. I just could never actually hit someone, even after they'd hit me. I'd like clock 'em and then apologize. Saddest. Boxer. Ever.

 
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