At the beginning of June my Master decreed blessedly, thankfully, that we could wear t-shirts with our dobok pants for training…as long as they were school-branded shirts of course. Her reason–it’s so damn hot in the Texas summer that we were absolutely roasting in our dobok tops.
Fellas, do you have a sneaking suspicion your girl might be a martial artist? (That is, if she hasn’t mentioned it ad nauseam already). Here are some tell-tale signs that you might just have the coolest girlfriend in the world:
She still likes manicures and pedicures but usually ruins them in a week by fighting and kicking focus pads.
There is always a sweaty sports bra drying out on a doorknob somewhere in her house. Always.
She has bruises on her forearms and shins and still rocks a sundress.
She’s the one dragging you to the sports bar to watch a UFC match.
She eats more than you do.
She talks about her instructors, students, and practice more than she does work, family, or anything else.
She’s honest, loyal, and hard-working.
She respects and values herself.
She doesn’t pull punches. (Literally or figuratively)
She is a confident, beautiful badass, and you are lucky to have her!
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Next week two of my classmates will be testing for first and second degree black belt, and several other students will be testing for various color belt levels. In addition to our normal training, much of our practice time has been devoted to preparing these students to test.
It’s nice not to have the heat on me as far as being a testing student, although if time flies as quickly as it has been, it’ll be my turn to test for second dan before I know it. These last few weeks have been a test in a different sense though: do I continue living up to my black belt duties? Continue reading “The Six Month Long (and Counting) Black Belt Test”→
“I’m not wearing a cup, Miss!” blurted out Jose*, a hard-working 15-year-old who is one of the most polite guys at the dojang. He’s quite good in sparring, so there wasn’t much of a risk of me clocking him in the criticals with a front snap kick. It took me a few seconds to stop laughing and compose myself.