Last night at Tae Kwon Do I was throwing some badass punches.
Master Kim goes around the room and holds his hand in front of students while we’re doing sets of ten punches. I was the last one he came to. So I punched: 123456789hah. Like that. Again and again.
Maybe it was because my kids were in the row behind me and I don’t want to look like a sissy. Maybe it was because I have a teeny crush on Master Kim and I don’t want him to think I’m weak. The way he kept standing in front of me, not releasing me or the class from our exercise, all the while saying “good, good! excellent punches!” The slap slap slap of my curled fingers onto his palm. Wanting to keep going because I was completely in the moment, legs spread, feet planted, abs tight, focused.
At any rate, we did five more sets than usual. Then Master Kim walked away with a very serious face, brow furrowed, and nodded his approval to me, palming one of his fists and making that unintelligible Korean grunt which means, “you did well.”
Because I am fierce, yo.
