HA-YA!
Poor Indy. He thought I was joking when I said I knew how to box. Little did he know that I was trained to fight and that I had learned many different forms of self defense.
When I was in high school, I got followed home by a creep after a football game. I was almost close to home when I noticed he had been following me for almost an hour. It was at that exact moment that I realized I couldn't stop my car because I had no way of defending myself if he decided to some at me or something. I was tiny. How could a 4 foot 9 inch blonde who only weighed 95 pounds supposed to defend herself? I couldn't. Since I was running really low on gas (and because I knew that looking for my house keys was going to take way too long), I call my friend and drove to his house a few blocks away (I didn't want the creep to know where I lived) and honked all the way down his block just in case he didn't already have the garage door open. I quickly turned in to his driveway (I got a flat tire and almost flipped my car from turning so quickly and suddenly and because I went over the curve), almost ran him over, and destroyed half of his father's fishing poles. After I had snapped out of the shock of being punched in the face by the air bag, I came to the conclusion that I needed to learn how to defend myself.
I then started to learn many different fighting techniques. Some boxing from my friend, a bit of jujitsu from my boyfriend at the time, kick boxing from my crazy friend, and kung fu from my awesome Chinese neighbor, and bit of anything else people were willing to teach me. So, here I am three years later still standing at 4 feet 9 inches tall and weighing 98 pounds (for some reason my boobs and bottom decided to get bigger).
I came home from school (thankfully only a three hour class on Fridays) and found Indy waiting by my door with a flower he had bravely stolen from the garden (I was actually very jealous when he told me where it was from because he had managed to do what I couldn’t). We got inside and after I made some lunch I told him about being so frustrated last night that I wanted to challenge the psycho lady from two doors down to a boxing match. He laughed and jokingly mocked me for thinking I could win a boxing match against a lady that was twice my size.
Did he really think I couldn’t? I mean, I love to eat. I love to cook so I always end up eating a lot. And when I’m not cooking, I’m still eating anyways because food is delicious. When I’m watching a movie at home, I can go through a box of donuts, a bag of popcorn, two packs of gummy bears, a caramel apple, and still have room for a giant bowl of ice cream covered in fudge (I’m little, but I love to eat).
And with an appetite like that, how did he think I manage to keep my 24 inch waist? I go to the gym, but I can only stay there for a short time. He knew that running to nowhere on a treadmill, riding a stationary bicycle, and lifting weights over an over again seemed kind of boring to me. And believe me, there’s no better work out that knocking someone down that’s someone twice yours size. It’s entertaining, and it’s fun to watch people’s reactions when they see what such a tiny person can do.
Because I was in the heat of the moment (but mostly because I wanted to see Indy with his shirt off), I challenged him to a boxing match. He laughed and though I was kidding. Then I explained to him that I actually didn’t want to box him because he was to hot to punch, and that we both had the day off and it would be therapeutic if he helped me workout with his shirt off. He agreed, we got ready, then headed to a friend’s gym that had proper boxing equipment.
We got to the punching bags and then he held it in place while I swung at it (I kept picturing the punching bag as the psycho lady but I kept getting distracted by Indy’s muscles). After seeing that I could actually throw some punches, Indy decided that he wanted to see what I could do in the ring. We put on some boxing gloves and got in the ring. He told me he wasn’t going to hit me because he couldn’t hit a girl but that he wanted to see if I could manage to get him since he was good at blocking punches. Right before we started, he took off his shirt and I got completely thrown off. I just stood there like an idiot staring at his six pack. “Tina… Tina?” Damn it, he was talking to me and I couldn’t focus because of his brawniness. This was gonna throw me off.
He stood there ready to block punches. Swing one. He blocked it. Then I started to stare at his muscles again. “Tina… Tina?” Damn it, why was I spacing out like that. It had to be his hotness. Swing two. He blocked again. I caught myself starting to stare and quickly snapped myself out of it. Swing three. Blocked again. I once again started to space out, Indy noticed and said something that quickly snapped me out of it. “What’s the matter Tina? Am I distracting you? When I saw you throwing punches at the bag I though you might actually be able to get me but I guess I was wrong. You’re tiny, and I know how to block punches. So you can’t get me.” He raised an eyebrow, to show he was jokingly trying to provoke me.
I was officially snapped out of it. I sung. He blocked. I swung again. He blocked. I swung two more times. He blocked them both. He really was good at blocking them. I swung a few more times, he kept blocking. And then, it happened. I took a swing towards his stomach with my left arm and when he went to block it I took a swing at his head with my right. Success! I stood there and did a little dance while holding my arms over my head to celebrate my victory. I had done what he said I couldn’t do. Then I turned around and saw Indy sitting on the floor with his hand to his head. Had I really hit him that hard? Actually, I think I had. Oops.
My friend came over and made sure he didn’t have a concussion or something and told him he was going to be fine. I sat on the floor with him in silence. I felt really bad about hitting him but I felt better when he reached over and half tackled me, half hugged me then kissed me. We had been flirting for a few weeks and seeing each other every day for two weeks and I couldn’t believe it took a punch to the head for him to finally kiss me. Until then he had only gave me a kiss on the cheek every time he made his exit.
We got back to our building and he went off to shower an said he’d come see me again in an hour so we could watch something. When he came over, I couldn’t help but laugh at the red bump that was forming on his forehead. He laughed too and then started acting like a baby and saying he was probably going to have brain damage after that.
He fell asleep while we were watching TV, and has taken over my couch. I still feel bad, so I guess I better make something good for dinner. I think I’ll let the quarter Italian part of me come out tonight and make some ravioli from scratch. Yum.
When I was in high school, I got followed home by a creep after a football game. I was almost close to home when I noticed he had been following me for almost an hour. It was at that exact moment that I realized I couldn't stop my car because I had no way of defending myself if he decided to some at me or something. I was tiny. How could a 4 foot 9 inch blonde who only weighed 95 pounds supposed to defend herself? I couldn't. Since I was running really low on gas (and because I knew that looking for my house keys was going to take way too long), I call my friend and drove to his house a few blocks away (I didn't want the creep to know where I lived) and honked all the way down his block just in case he didn't already have the garage door open. I quickly turned in to his driveway (I got a flat tire and almost flipped my car from turning so quickly and suddenly and because I went over the curve), almost ran him over, and destroyed half of his father's fishing poles. After I had snapped out of the shock of being punched in the face by the air bag, I came to the conclusion that I needed to learn how to defend myself.
I then started to learn many different fighting techniques. Some boxing from my friend, a bit of jujitsu from my boyfriend at the time, kick boxing from my crazy friend, and kung fu from my awesome Chinese neighbor, and bit of anything else people were willing to teach me. So, here I am three years later still standing at 4 feet 9 inches tall and weighing 98 pounds (for some reason my boobs and bottom decided to get bigger).
I came home from school (thankfully only a three hour class on Fridays) and found Indy waiting by my door with a flower he had bravely stolen from the garden (I was actually very jealous when he told me where it was from because he had managed to do what I couldn’t). We got inside and after I made some lunch I told him about being so frustrated last night that I wanted to challenge the psycho lady from two doors down to a boxing match. He laughed and jokingly mocked me for thinking I could win a boxing match against a lady that was twice my size.
Did he really think I couldn’t? I mean, I love to eat. I love to cook so I always end up eating a lot. And when I’m not cooking, I’m still eating anyways because food is delicious. When I’m watching a movie at home, I can go through a box of donuts, a bag of popcorn, two packs of gummy bears, a caramel apple, and still have room for a giant bowl of ice cream covered in fudge (I’m little, but I love to eat).
And with an appetite like that, how did he think I manage to keep my 24 inch waist? I go to the gym, but I can only stay there for a short time. He knew that running to nowhere on a treadmill, riding a stationary bicycle, and lifting weights over an over again seemed kind of boring to me. And believe me, there’s no better work out that knocking someone down that’s someone twice yours size. It’s entertaining, and it’s fun to watch people’s reactions when they see what such a tiny person can do.
Because I was in the heat of the moment (but mostly because I wanted to see Indy with his shirt off), I challenged him to a boxing match. He laughed and though I was kidding. Then I explained to him that I actually didn’t want to box him because he was to hot to punch, and that we both had the day off and it would be therapeutic if he helped me workout with his shirt off. He agreed, we got ready, then headed to a friend’s gym that had proper boxing equipment.
We got to the punching bags and then he held it in place while I swung at it (I kept picturing the punching bag as the psycho lady but I kept getting distracted by Indy’s muscles). After seeing that I could actually throw some punches, Indy decided that he wanted to see what I could do in the ring. We put on some boxing gloves and got in the ring. He told me he wasn’t going to hit me because he couldn’t hit a girl but that he wanted to see if I could manage to get him since he was good at blocking punches. Right before we started, he took off his shirt and I got completely thrown off. I just stood there like an idiot staring at his six pack. “Tina… Tina?” Damn it, he was talking to me and I couldn’t focus because of his brawniness. This was gonna throw me off.
He stood there ready to block punches. Swing one. He blocked it. Then I started to stare at his muscles again. “Tina… Tina?” Damn it, why was I spacing out like that. It had to be his hotness. Swing two. He blocked again. I caught myself starting to stare and quickly snapped myself out of it. Swing three. Blocked again. I once again started to space out, Indy noticed and said something that quickly snapped me out of it. “What’s the matter Tina? Am I distracting you? When I saw you throwing punches at the bag I though you might actually be able to get me but I guess I was wrong. You’re tiny, and I know how to block punches. So you can’t get me.” He raised an eyebrow, to show he was jokingly trying to provoke me.
I was officially snapped out of it. I sung. He blocked. I swung again. He blocked. I swung two more times. He blocked them both. He really was good at blocking them. I swung a few more times, he kept blocking. And then, it happened. I took a swing towards his stomach with my left arm and when he went to block it I took a swing at his head with my right. Success! I stood there and did a little dance while holding my arms over my head to celebrate my victory. I had done what he said I couldn’t do. Then I turned around and saw Indy sitting on the floor with his hand to his head. Had I really hit him that hard? Actually, I think I had. Oops.
My friend came over and made sure he didn’t have a concussion or something and told him he was going to be fine. I sat on the floor with him in silence. I felt really bad about hitting him but I felt better when he reached over and half tackled me, half hugged me then kissed me. We had been flirting for a few weeks and seeing each other every day for two weeks and I couldn’t believe it took a punch to the head for him to finally kiss me. Until then he had only gave me a kiss on the cheek every time he made his exit.
We got back to our building and he went off to shower an said he’d come see me again in an hour so we could watch something. When he came over, I couldn’t help but laugh at the red bump that was forming on his forehead. He laughed too and then started acting like a baby and saying he was probably going to have brain damage after that.
He fell asleep while we were watching TV, and has taken over my couch. I still feel bad, so I guess I better make something good for dinner. I think I’ll let the quarter Italian part of me come out tonight and make some ravioli from scratch. Yum.
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