Rollin' with the Big Boys

About a month or so ago, I started taking Jiu Jitsu. My friend The Mole takes it and she asked if I wanted to come with her sometime. Uh, yeah.

I thought it was going to be a lot of kicking and punching and all that. It's not. It's pretty much two hours of rolling around on the ground trying to hurt each other. Which is awesome.

Our instructor doesn't really understand girls. It's like he thinks we're going to cry or puss out or something. So the whole time The Mole has been going, he's barely even talked to her. Which was okay for her, because she goes with her boyfriend and he's a blue belt and he can teach her things.

It's not so okay for me, though. As I have no one to ask. Well, except The Mole. So I keep going over to him like, "I don't understand. Can you explain it to me again?" And he's all, "Stupid girls in my class, ugh." And I'm like, "I don't care, just show me the shit again. Now." And then last time he actually showed me how to do something by doing it to me. The Mole and I were shocked because he usually won't touch us girls. Maybe we have cooties?

Anyway, The Mole's boyfriend had been out for the whole month because he injured himself on a take-down. Not a hooker on Cops take-down. So it had just been me and The Mole for the whole month.

We had tried a couple of times, unsuccessfully, to get some of the boys to roll (AKA rolling around on the floor, wrestling...with clothes on, you pervs) with me. But none of them would because they're scared of my boobs or something. It's the only reasonable explanation.

Well, last night, I got to roll with some boys. I rolled with The Mole's boyfriend. I rolled with The Mole's boyfriend's friend, and our climbing buddy. And while it's completely awkward at first to be sitting on top of boys with all your clothes on knowing that this is going nowhere but actual pain, it was pretty awesome.

The only problem is, today I look like the girl who lives at the trailer park whose daddy beats her on a regular basis. I have about 37 bruises (and no, that's not an exaggeration) and they're all bright pink. All the ones on my arms are in the shape of The Mole's boyfriend's hands. Which is just awkward no matter how you look at it.

And I realized? I am so weak. Climber was all, "Okay, I'm not even going to use my hands. So you only have to defend against my legs."

I said, "Um...can we start with one leg? You have a lot more muscles than The Mole."

Interesting point: In Jiu Jitsu, when someone "has your back," that is a very very very bad thing for you (and I totally had Climber's back once! I got imaginary points for that one). And "shrimping" does not mean the same thing as it does in the Urban Dictionary, but I still giggle every time they tell me to "shrimp out." (I'm not providing you with a link because if my aunt reads this, I don't want her clicking it...go look it up if you don't know, but it's not that business about toes.) And I get totally creeped out when our instructor tells me to "do the domestic violence choke."