…sting like a bee

“Hit me”

“No”

“Just hit my damn stomach”

“No – I don’t want to hurt you”

<chuckling> “you won’t hurt me…trust me”

Hubby is a Thai Boxer.  He has studied the art of Muay Thai for about 10 years now and is extremely impressive to watch… but what’s more impressive is that he is constantly learning.  Even after that long, there’s still a lot to learn.  Well.

Hubby decided (before he was hubby) that I would be a great training/sparring partner.  In theory, I absolutely wanted to be a part of this. We went to the gym together most days (being friends). He was impressive to watch as he would explode on the heavy bag. I would sit on my stability ball, completely enthralled, completely forgetting the exercise I had been doing. Also, I’ve been a fan of UFC and martial arts in general for as long as I can remember.  But that was on TV. Not in the living room.

So I let him attempt to train me.  First step: learning to wrap your hands properly. I have to admit: having your hands wrapped up and the gloves on makes you feel pretty tough…and strangely sexy.  And the good Lord knows we could all use a little more confidence – who doesn’t enjoy feeling sexy?

Next step: pull on the gloves… do the little “float like a butterfly” dance that must accompany every form of boxing. Get in trouble for it. And hit something (or in this case, someone). That first jab was probably the most liberating feeling in the whole world.  I poured everything I had into perfecting the jab, cross, hook, combinations with roundhouse kicks, foot jabs and thai knees.

I’d had a pretty stressful year. Divorce, moving in with my parents at 30 years old, trying to find a suitable place to live for my boys….love, loss… all these poisons that built up inside me, eating away at my confidence, pushing me closer and closer to the brink of depression.  I was fighting with myself constantly. Until I put those gloves on.  No one could hurt me in those gloves. Every ounce of stress, every angry thought, every self-serving thought was released through the gloves.  And hubby holding the pads or shouting his encouragement to me only helped. I fought my way through the anger, the pain, the depression, and the self-pity.  Being physically stronger helped me be a mentally stronger woman… who knew?

That was 3 years ago… I got hurt a few months back and hung up the gloves, much to hubby’s dismay.  I’ve realized how much I miss it.  I miss that connection that we had when we sparred ~ how many couples actually fight each other and don’t have the cops called on them?? It is a special bond that we share… and I like that he’s teaching me about something that he loves so much.

The new house has a big basement…. might have to be the new ring. 🙂

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