I've tried to get you out of my head but I can't seem to get you out of my flesh. I think about your body day and night. When I try to read it's you I'm reading. When I sit down to eat it's you I'm eating. When he touches me I think about you. I'm a middle-aged happily married woman and all I can see is your face. What have you done to me?-Jeanette Winterson
I was just outside doing some special forensic science to discover who is responsible for the most recent break-in (If you were reading and writing at Cuntface, you'd know all about it. If you would like to be invited, send me an email to email@example.com, and be ready to grovel, beg, and explain why you're worthy.), and I remembered something about myself: I'm a fucking badass.
I used to practice martial arts, like 4 times a week for four years. I was fit and happy and strong, and I thought I could beat everyone up. I'd look forward to interactions where I might have a chance to beat the fuck out of some dumb mother fucker who wanted to mess with me. I'd go to my school and feel like I was coming home. I had friends there...good friends...that best kind of strong-ass woman friends. We were fucking ninjas. We'd punch each other and kick each other in the heads and fuck up boards and kick the asses of dudes and bitches and bags and everything...and then, we'd go drink mojitos. We were Charlie's Angels, but smarter.
God, I miss myself.
Now, I'm 20 pounds heavier and scared to walk around my own house. What the fuck happened?
I know part of what happened was that I couldn't find a martial arts school like the one I left after I moved back to the South. And for the last six months, we've been embroiled in this whole heroin crisis, and it has consumed me in a way that is really, really unhealthy.
I can only imagine how fucking good beating the shit out of a bag would have been for me during those early days. I know, oh I know, that beating the shit out of something, someone, anything or anyone would be for me right now.
So I was looking at some stuff in the back yard, and then I was hitting stuff in the back yard, and then my knuckles were bleeding and things were broken and I was crying, crying, crying because there is no reason why I can't be fit, strong, healthy and happy in just that same way.
What have I done? Where the fuck am I, and why?
So tomorrow, goddamn it, I'm going to check out two more schools. I gave up on the search, but there are two near my house. I need it more than anything right now, to feel strong, fit, healthy, beautiful.
I'm going to bite a motherfucker in the jugular. Nobody better mess with me.