So my face got a little scratched up from team training-everyone at work knows I train: in fact, it’s one of the first things I mention. That actually stems from a comment a co worker once made that went along the lines of, “if I didn’t know you did jiu jitsu, I would have called women’s social services a while ago.”
I appreciate the concern, but really, it’s not like that at all.
I guess this is also a good time to mention I bruise like a peach. Like, I have gotten bruises from carrying a heavy box up a flight of stairs, and the box hitting my legs. I don’t have anemia, I just bruise easily ::shrug::
There’s a little part of me that wants to make up some epic tale to explain some of the bruises though.
No, that scratch on my face wasn’t from doing jiu jitsu in Philadelphia, it was from doing battle against the Yakuza in the back alleys of downtown Tokyo, where I emerged barely alive, but victorious.
Those marks on my arms aren’t from an overaggressive sleeve grip- I had captured a yeti in the Himalayan mountains, using my judo and jiu jitsu skills to submit the beast. I eventually took pity on it after seeing little baby yetis cautiously watch their momma’s capture from a distance. I let her go, so she and her babies could live freely.
No, that’s not mat burn on the top of my foot, those are scrapes from traveling down to the Underworld and punching Hades in the face for taking our most favorite Golden Girl, Bea Arthur.
Anyone else get that feeling once in a while?