My Sweet Tiffiany

My good friend Tiff is one of several people with whom I don’t like to be in a photo.

And this is why. She’s a hard body.

She teaches body combat.

And it’s as painful as it sounds.

B-O-D-Y COMBAT. Yes, it’s painful.

She’s one tough woman.

And body combat is a class that makes you reach into your most primitive instincts to smash someone’s head in. It’s not at all civilized.

I used to teach kickbox. And long ago, I was a student of Tang So Do, a Korean self-defense discipline. That was so long ago that I can barely remember the lactic acid in my muscles.

Until I started taking Tiff’s class.

After what happened to me last year, I want to get my survival instincts back.

And now I can’t move. I’m not kidding. See Danny in the corner? He says he goes to the class and pretends he’s in a bar fight.

You either have to do body combat more than once a week or not at all. It makes you that sore. But it’s fun.

However, if anyone ever came up to take my purse, I’d say, “Hey! I got that on sale!”

Then I’d kick their butt. Thankyouverymuch.

Drop what you are doing, and go punch something. Right now.