It’s a lowkey Saturday night in, and I’m thinking about getting an early night. I flipped my mattress and changed my sheets earlier (to the jersey-knit t-shirt sheets, mm), so it should be a wonderful sleep once I crawl under my covers. It’s barely 9 and I’m already looking forwards to bed.
I’m torn between sleeping late and getting up before sunrise to do some photography. A late sleep would really hit the spot, but so would some photography. I suppose I’ll figure it out around 5am.
Tonight I’m watching a really good indie flick from 2000, GirlFight. It’s about an angry, disenfranchised teen girl who happens upon boxing and her love affair with the sport.
I’m watching it to psych myself up a little bit. I’m starting boxing myself this Tuesday. It’s part of my new fitness kick. I’ve been cycling and last week I added swimming to my repetoire, and this week I take it up a few notches to build in the boxing to my regimen. I’ll be training at a gym owned by a former pro-UFC fighter, who will be my trainer, and I’m getting warned that I’ll be in a whole world of pain when morning strikes on Wednesday. Oddly, I’m not feeling deterred.
Boxing’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a few years now. I once worked with a woman who took it up at my age (33) and found herself going to the national amateur championships one day down the road. I don’t know if I want to go full-on to the world of boxing, or if circuit training and sparring’s all I care to do, but I’m keeping an open mind, and I do love a challenge.
I always sort of figured I was too fat, too slow, whatever, to properly box, and now I figure I’m just angry enough, getting quick enough, and have just enough to prove to make it worth my while.
This fitness thing isn’t about becoming a size 6. It’s not about looking the right way in a micro-skirt. It’s not about being fuckworthy. It’s about owning my body and feeling like the strong, proud woman I think I am. It’s about having my disposition match inside and out.
Inside, I’d actually rather never be thin. I wanna have my ghetto booty. I want those thick, broad shoulders of a swimmer, and the whole-body insulation that’ll keep me warm as I ride my scooter through 365 days worth of elements. But I’m tired of looking doughy and soft, ‘cos I’m one strong, tough chick, and I guess I’m simply trying to prove that to myself these days. Fuck anyone else’s perception, but it’d be nice if they shared mine, y’know?
The new kick I’m on is hard on me right now. I’m tired a lot in the evenings (but have more energy during the days) and thankfully I sleep very, very well as a result. This week I’ll be expending even more energy, and I bet it’ll be a hell of a trial for me, but I’m going to be very proud of myself. I already am.
I don’t know how just yet, but something tells me this boxing thing’s going to be great for my sexuality. I’m dying to find out how that plays, but methinks something about the raw physicality of it all is really going to compute for me. I’m that kind of girl, so it’ll be nice to finally be playing that role somewhere other than just the bedroom. Things are about to get fun, man. I promised myself before 2007 kicked in that this would be a year to remember. So far, I’m doing everything right. Gotta love prescience, baby.