jab

Bettah WATCH OUT for my jab, baby.

jab

Well, well. I received the UNDIVIDED attention of both my trainers last night, and the Shred of the Century ensued. Apparently my jab is more poorly constructed than a Louisiana levee. So it got bulldozed and I proceeded to throw ten bafillion left jabs on command, mostly wrecks.

One of my coaches put me through the jab shredder and the other one kept dogging my stance. I already knew my stance needed adjusting, but as you know I can only think of one thing at a time, and pretty soon I was in such poor form that I would have had trouble going the distance against Paris Hilton in the ring.

Well, okay, let’s not be extreme — I’d have put her on the canvas in no time, and used my crappy but ingrained and heartfelt left jab to do it. Heh.

Whew — just got lost in that fantasy for a minute. Where was I? Oh yeah, whining.

The evil glowing laser of destruction was humming so loudly and focused so intently on me that eventually my team mates abandoned their heavy bags and came to watch the show. They began to offer their own versions of advice on my jab, stance, guard, position, reaction time, mouthguard, eye color, and choice of hand lotion. I think I took it well. I bit no one, and counted that my victory. And I threw forty craploads (and I mean that intentionally) of jabs.

I threw so many left jabs that when I got home my sports bra had abraded a line of skin off the left side of my back. It’s a wonder I can move my arm today. But I can, amazingly. Of course, I can’t move it through the motion of a CORRECT LEFT JAB, but I can do 40 standard push-ups in the midst of my regular workout today and hardly notice.

Okay, I feel better now, thanks for listening. My jab must be fixed. My stance must be fixed. We have the technology. We can repair me.

And I want to say that I’m actually very grateful for my coaches, whom I adore (in a sick and twisted way), for having taken me to the woodshed. Better them than the boxers I face in the ring. And a particular squeeze of affection fist bump goes out to my team mates, who really did offer me good advice and believe in me despite my inconceivably grotesque left jab.

I plan to show them my new one up close and personal.

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2 Responses to Bettah WATCH OUT for my jab, baby.

  1. Andre April 30, 2009 at 4:33 pm #

    I’m scared now…LOL

  2. Lisa Creech Bledsoe May 1, 2009 at 8:04 am #

    Fear not, Andre. You’ll get the same chance to laff at my jab on Monday night when I see you at the gym. No, I haven’t forgotten!

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