Cute, Cute

“Ooh! That’s cute! Try it on!” said Sister of Shark Girl when she saw me take it out of the package. It was my new Tatami gi, and she was right—it was cute. Despite the splatter of patches that I swore I would never wear, despite that mat blue is not my favorite gi color, it was cute.

            “You have to try it on. Now!” Sister of Shark Girl ordered.

            Shark Girl slipped it on over her shorts and tank and Sister of Shark Girl confirmed, “Yep. Cute. You have to look at yourself in the mirror. Go upstairs and look at yourself in the mirror.”

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Sister of Shark Girl is a few years older and in the habit of ordering Shark Girl around. Shark Girl usually does what she says without complaint or hesitance. Years of conditioning, and let’s face it: she’s usually right.

Shark Girl went upstairs and looked at herself in the mirror. “Oh my God! It is cute! I can’t wait to wear it!”

So this fall, Shark Girl will sport a new gi. Stay tuned for the review, but for now, you should know that it’s dang cute.

 

Many thanks to Martial Art Supplies for this opportunity to be so fetching while fighting.

It's Hard Being Anonymous

Here I am in NYC--surrounded by BJJ clubs. And no one will have me.

It's not that I haven't tried. I've e-mailed and re-emailed and forwarded e-mails. Some people haven't responded. Some have said, "Yes, you are welcome. Ask So-and-So for more info." And So-and-So hasn't responded. Then some have said, "No, unfortunately, unless you are a member or a member of an affiliate or a guest of a member, or you want to shell out huge money for a private, essentially you are not welcome."

Oh, how I long to wield the power of Shark Girl:
     "Yes, hello, I am Shark Girl. Perhaps you have heard of me or read my wildly successful blog? No? Oh . . . um . . . well . . . ahem. Let me start over. I write a blog and would like to visit your program. Afterward I will probably write about my experience on said blog, thereby giving you lots of free publicity as the cool, welcoming BJJ school you most surely are."

Who would refuse? But I can't do that because then I have to sign that waiver. You know, the one that says if someone kills me, the school isn't responsible. And I have to sign it with my real name. Believe me, I've thought about just putting down "Shark Girl," but something feels illegal about that. And when I say I am just some female blue belt visiting the city, the open arms, well, they are folded.

So instead, I am sitting alone at a restaurant because I turned down invitations to B'way plays in the hopes that someone, anyone, would respond to my BJJ query and let Shark Girl kick some tail (or get her tail kicked) and add to the bruise collection on my legs which is already raising eyebrows at my staid classics professionals conference. "Oh, dear, Muffy! Could it be? Don't tell me that poor woman is anemic!"

Anyway, it's restaurant week and instead of writing a review of that BJJ school, I'll write a review of the restaurant where I am eating. Stay tuned, New Yorkers, you know who you are.

Oh, and BJJ schools, you should really learn to be more open.