We (or at least I) have returned

It has been a year and a half since I blogged here. P'ster and I were discussing this blog the other day and decided we should resume this blog because so many things have happened at the dojo and our time at the dojo is finite. I plan to quit after my black belt test and p'ster plans to quit after she gets hers. And Hot Arms is still there and she is still hot and her arms are hot. And she's still intense and seems to still hate her husband.

The Shihan has been charged with having sex with teenagers and the dojo is now owned by his wife and the African-American sensei. A smarmy guy is the new manager. He's as pompous as the Shihan but much less talented in martial arts. He is a white belt and tells everyone how to do everything. He's fat, he shouts and he talks constantly about how in shape he was 25 years ago. He's very loud. My ick factor is very high around him.

Hot Arms is moving further away. She'll be 30 minutes away from the dojo because she is buying a new house with the husband she hates. The girl is crazy. She will only be able to go to the dojo 2 days a week and may need to take a break from working toward her own black belt. She's sad.

The Shihan was arrested twice in the late winter for molesting / having sex with teenage girls. He's not supposed to be at the dojo. I've seen him too much. He's subdued but simmering. I expect he will take the case to trial. He is a creep.

I hope P'ster writes too. Our lives are different and diverging but we love to write and we love kickboxing. And we still think Hot Arms is hot in her own intense way.

Little improvements

Hot Arms was in class today during the smallish snow storm. Only 3 of us were there. She brought her 7 year old son who was off from school. She was very jazzed because next week she has a medical conference in Florida. I don't know how much learning she will get done but she really needs some sunshine, some R&R and some margaritas.

On the hotarmacizing front, I was able to do a lot of push-ups including 18 in a row. A personal best. I was pleased. Need to get up to 60 in 2 minutes for the black belt test but that is at least 2 years away. I'll get there.

So, it's all just a bit better in many ways on the Hot Arms front.

Hot Arms scares me

Hot Arms is happy for today. Her husband has a business trip to Boston and is expected to return tomorrow. Well, she says excitedly, he will be stranded and possibly not home until the weekend because of the storm.

She needs a divorce. She fantasizes assaulting him. She fantasizes assaulting him with a stick. I have to break down for her the difference between a simple assault (no weapons) and an aggravated assault (a stick is a weapon) and the nuances between serious bodily injury or some or none. She is scaring me. I don't want to be an accessory to a crime.

She mightily pounds the bags in the dojo. If an activity involves hitting a bag with a stick, she is fearsome. I easily imagine her breaking her husband's knees or ribs. And laughing as she stands over him while refusing him medical treatment. And she knows what bones to break. She's a doctor. A scary, angry doctor. The woman needs a divorce.

Shihan digs chicks including...

Poor Hot Arms missed a lot of classes this fall. Her old back injury resurfaced but as soon as she had medical clearance, there was Hot Arms punching and crunching, back brace and all.

This post is not about old Hot Arms but is instead about my friend, one p'ster.

This past September in yet another skirmish in my decades old war against fat, I embarked on a "boot camp" at the dojo which meant that I paid $99 for the privilege of taking 10 classes (which I could do anyway) and getting 3 one-on-one sessions with Shihan or Mrs Shihan. This was meant to jump start my new diet. After the boot-camp week, I could get a promotion. So, I scheduled 3 sessions of mitt work with Shihan. (He holds mitts; I hit or kick them and he critiques my technique. Ok.)

In my experience, one of men's favorite topics to talk about with me is women. Happens all the time. Dudes dig talking about chicks with a girl who's into chicks. Ugh!

On my second one-on-on with Shihan, he observed that p'ster and I were becoming close. Here I went into an internal panic pondering what he could be implying. I am as married as I am legally allowed and p'ster was in a relationship. And I was raised Catholic and didn't he know the idea of cheating even if I would ever cheat (not that I would; it would wreck my psyche forever!) sends me into a vortex of guilt at the mere thought, a la Jimmy Carter's lust-in-the heart type sinning. I understood where the man, Jimmy Carter that is, was coming from!

(At the first one-on-one session, Shihan and I just talked about chicks.)

After his not-so astute observation about p'ster and me, Shihan asked me if I thought p'ster was pretty. Talk about rock and hard places! Well, she is. Pretty, that p'ster. But I was not sure where this line of inquiry was going. After a very deliberate pregnant pause, I answered simply, "Yes."

"So do I," he rapidly admitted.

Then, he began to wax rhapsodic and poetic and all that dreck about p'ster. She has finesse. She is graceful. She is fast. She has is thoughtful. She is refined. She is European. (No, she's not! Her parents were!) And I, in juxtaposition, am a "bull in a china shop." Ow! Good thing my ego isn't fragile.

As I punched the mitts and listened to this nonsense, I realized poor p'ster had been catapaulted into the "select" few favored by Shihan. P'ster was now in Hot Arms' vicinity in his realm.

Eventually, the one-on-one with Shihan plus p'ster ended. He mentioned her again at the next-on-one session; but not so blatantly. He merely managed to work a mention of her into our conversations every 5 minutes rather than the entire time.

When I told p'ster about Shihan's lust, p'ster was blown away in disbelief. She had been laughing about his lust for Hot Arms too. Now, here was she now a lustful focal point herself.

This call was borne out when p'ster had to be away from the dojo for over a week. Upon her return, Shihan went out of his way to note that he missed her and that she was very welcome back into the fold. Prodigal daughter or no.

Other times, he asks after her and solicits her feelings after an absence. Oddly amusing but not to p'ster or me. Kinda creepy. I expect that Shihan's attention to her is burdensome and annoying to p'ster. So, poor girl. I am not envious. I am glad to be the "bull in the china shop" or the fat girl in the dojo. It's much easier.

Oh, and p'ster revealed that Shihan is such a guy. Ie: a "walking penis." Gotta love the girl

Shihan flirts with Hot Arms

Really. She flirts back too. At my belt recent promotion ,which had to be done as a make-up, I had to wait so Shihan could flirt and flirt. I noted same to to Sensei M. who said sarcastically,"So, we're not the only ones who've noticed."

Shihan's advise to Hot Arms (who's having marital problems): "Go to a hotel. Drink a lot. Negotiate your issues. Sign a contract. Drink more wine. Fuck all night. Wake up and read the contract you signed the night before."

He vouchsafes its veracity and effectiveness. Hot Arms's face was read. He gave me the same advise when I was on a rant about my partner being gone at work for over 12 hours. He doesn't flirt with me. There is a a certain sagacity in his advise. But his hand was laid admiringly and tenderly on Hot Arms' ever-hotter arms when he dispensed this advise to Hot Arms. He matter-0f-factly stated it to me. But who can blame him? She is hot.

Since we the above diatribe was mentioned when a bunch of us from the dojo were discussing the physical types to which we were attracted, I did say that if I and Hot Arms were single, and if she were gay and were to go for me, she would not be my type: she's long haired and longish nailed. Too girly. I like girls with a bit of a tomboy about them!

Hot Arms and her kid and meds

Hot Arms and I partner last week in Kickboxing last week. After class, she and I get to talking about our very bright, quirky sons. She asks how the meeting with my son's psychiatrist went and I tell her he has ADHD and we put him on meds for school but are giving him a break on weekends and over the summer. But the drug is miraculous in focusing my son for school and homework. She says her kid is having transition and focus issues and since he is entering first grade, he needs to transition and to focus better. I rave about the effect the drug has on our kid as confirmed by kid and his teacher.

Hot Arms is a pulmonologist. She works whenever her husband does not. She avoids him and she worries about her son. Like I worry about mine. She takes medications for her medical needs like I do for mine. Reluctantly, I give or rather, my partner dispenses, what is basically speed for our 6 year old son. Well, it fires up the correct, in scholastic terms, parts of his brain. I give her the name of our psychiatrist and wish her well. I tell her if something is needed, it should not be denied.

Women warriors

I sparred Hot Arms today. She's fast, she's good but she's a newbie. And an uber-perfectionist. She was beating herself up for not being better than she is. This was her third time sparring. She is intense.

She does look fetchingly sexy when she sweats, spars, removes her headgear. She could have anyone she wants. I guess she's not ready yet for extra-marital activities (of course not with me. I'm married and besides, she seems to have a thing for p'ster). I came home and did 50 chair dips. She inspires.

On another issue: p'ster kicked and pummeled me mightily after I kicked her in the nose. We were sparring and it was implicitly consensual. "A wake up call", p'ster said with ice cold fury. Her dark eyes dilated black. Her face blazed amazon ferocity. She was primal anger pounding my face and my head and my ribs. She mesmerized me and I froze. I understood fundamentally, she craved vengeance and I was compelled to acquiesce.

Shortly after this, the boy sparrers separated us. It's always good to work with different people and frequently, necessary.

After class, p'ster confessed she was very pissed off. She has a lot fire of deep within. An epiphany for her. Calling upon it as needed and controlling it is challenging; but oh, the strength and power she will wield! Go p'ster. Uzz!

Bridging from Hot Arms

Hot Arms lusts after p'ster or p'ster's sparring ability. Poor Hot Arms. She really needs to get divorced and have passionate, meaningless sex with someone. Any available red-blooded person would want to assist her!

She still inspires me but I've really slacked because of many reasons. But I am getting private boxing lessons from Coach M., who I've been told was on the US Olympic boxing team. I've not asked Coach M. about this but the guy knows his stuff. I love it!

Still I will need to return to hotarmacising. I want to do a bridge position on my hands instead of my head. For that, I will need stronger triceps. Ah, Hot Arms. Able to do several pull-ups. Bridge position on her hands is a non-issue. But I envy her ability. Chair dips here I come.

Hot Arms: Week 3

Hot Arms, p'ster, M and I sparred on Friday in a round-robin fashion. She's quick, she's good. She says I'm fierce. Because of her I can do 16 or 17 boy push-ups in a row. I'm not sure how hot my own arms are becoming but even hotarmacizing inconsistently has improved my strength.

After we all sparred, we went to lunch. Hot Arms had a far-away look on her face. Her husband's off to India and she's happy. She keeps her self to herself. Very guarded and closed, that one. Her beautifully tone triceps belie the ache emanating from her eyes.

Off the wagon, onto Hot Arms not feeling hot on her birthday

Fell off the hotarmaczing wagon. Triceps shrinking. Batwings building. Not good.

P and I had just finished sparring last week when we started chatting with Hot Arms and our friend M. This Friday, at P's and my urging, Hot Arms and M are going to spar and then we are all going to go out for brunch to celebrate Gold Belts, sparring and birthdays - P's and Hot Arms'.

Hot Arms' husband is off to India and she's happy he's gone. She is not into her marriage at all.

It was her birthday and us she was depressed about her new age (her late 30's, I think). Hot Arms was impressed that B, a woman with slightly-less-than-Hot-Arms-hot arms but nevertheless impressively hot arms, had just turned 51. Yes, B looks great. So then, I informed Hot Arms she looked great too, what with her well-toned arms and all. (I note that P totally avoided eye contact with me during this repartee with Hot Arms). Hot Arms said she did not think she looked hot; she felt very un-hot.

I remarked that her physique was appealing. I told her any man would find her attractive. She smiled her pretty, perfect smile and tossed her pretty, sweat-damp hair. She poo-pooed me but was pleased. M and P agreed. Yes, any man at all. She didn't need her husband. Oooh. She giggled giddily. But then the coup-de-grace. Naughtily, I informed Hot Arms if she decided to cross the fence and try girls, she would do even better. Hot Arms again stroked her hair, replying as she hastily exited, "That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day. Thanks!" O poor girl.

So, having reminded Hot Arms of her hotness, I must again begin to reclaim mine. (Not that I am or ever was hot. I've always relied more on being interesting and funny rather than cute much less hot. At least my sweetie thinks I'm cute!) It cannot hurt to try to be hot, if only for health reasons and to avoid batwings. And for my sweetie.

Hot Arms and the Hot Arms progran, Days 1 and 2 of week 1: Suburban Dyke

Today, I went to a morning kickboxing class. Hot Arms appeared, tanked on coffee and sucking her asthma inhaler, declaring she was not yet awake. I asked her about her bruises. Initially, she looked confused but then with a slight grin, she said, "Oh those. I forgot. Ok, I guess." I think she likes P better than me.

Because it was a basic class (as opposed to intermediate / advanced) and because it was a small class, we all had a kickboxing bag to ourselves. Hot Arms pounded hers, hard, and harder, and harder still. Biting lips, licking lips, hair flailing all about. Perfect in her moves. But angry, intensely angry.

Through all the drills, she excelled but not enough to alleviate what's inside her. Poor Hot Arms. Really.

So as for my routine, yesterday:

P'ster is in better shape and at least 50 lbs lighter as well as 6 years younger than me. (Just an explanation, not an excuse.) So for day one (yesterday): 15 boy push-ups at 6:45 am and at 11 pm. 15 sit-ups, both times.

Today: 15 push-ups and 15 sit-ups at 6am and eventually, at 11 pm, before I go to bed. In between: 2 sets of 15 triceps chair dips, 2 sets of more triceps stuff (behind the head and standing against a chair isolating each side with 5 lb weights), some of the air-port traffic waving stuff (20), bicep curls (20 each arm), some lat pull up/downs with 5 lb weights as well as a 10 lb bar and some more stuff with the bar. You get the idea. Working on my future hot arms.

I am a big girl, 185 lbs. Some muscle. Much fat (and stamina for my size) but a determination to succeed, So, I need to work on abs and legs which I will do on "off" days from arm-hotness-building exercises. All "experts" say to take a day off between muscle building and I will comply. However, I will do 15 sit-ups and boy push-ups daily for the week and up the antee next week.

On to Hot Arms

Hot Arms (photo is not her) has been at our dojo for over a year. She started about the same time P did, two months after me. She DOES have HOT ARMS. Well muscled and toned. She can do pull-ups, about which she berates herself for not being able to do more. She used to deign to do partner work with me but now she chooses those with higher belts. Not that I blame her. She is good. She's graceful and strong. Very athletic with all American good looks. She's also smart.

Hot Arms would seemingly "have it all" including her arms and (as P noted) her calves. Except she really dislikes her husband who apparently is a lazy accountant who doesn't do much around the house. She has two cute kids: a 6 year old boy and a 3 year old girl. She says she would leave her husband but for the kids. Her hard, heavy, fearsome bag-pounding, over two successive classes, only slightly alleviates her tension. And boy, is she tense. But not to worry: Shihan often gives a nice massage after class. Shihan does not offer this special attention to P and me!

P very accurately and hysterically described our inspirational moment for this blog: Hot Arms' arm and calf flexing at the silly gals gossiping about her. It was very funny that she was flirting with the two queer women in class. Clearly flirting. With her poor boo-boo from the big bad carpet that assaulted her in the store and her not-visible-to-the-naked-eye bruise on her Grecian-sculptured bicep, reportedly suffered while kickboxing (hmmmm).

That night, I went home and told my partner who thought it was not right that Hot Arms had flirted with P and me. Right before she kissed me good night, my partner angrily muttered, "What's wrong with her? You're both taken!!!" It was very flattering that my partner was jealous. And sweet. But the mere mention of Hot Arms makes my partner seethe.

The morning after the flex-tease, P and I took another class, giggled about Hot Arms and Shihan's over-attention to her, as well as our partners' reaction. Suddenly, speaking of those devilishly beguiling arms, she hovered in the doorway. Shihan "uzed" her in. While she bowed, and P and I smirked, Shihan's head whiplashed between us and Hot Arms. He wanted to look at her but he wanted to know why P and I were amused. I forget what we said but he finally re-focused.

Of course, Hot Arms punched and pounded and Shihan panted. But, P and I are inspired. We too want to have hot arms. But, we are sympathetic to Hot Arms who is an unknowing icon and who is decent, caring woman with a troubled life.