The Happy Punch
Me and my big mouth… got me in trouble again. I’m backing up; I’m doubled over, and I can’t breathe. She got me right in the stomach; her fist pushed through any muscle I have there and I was caught completely by surprise. I didn’t think she was much of a threat, but now, I’ve learned and staring at her little pedicured toes as I go down to one knee.
“You okay?” Master Owens says, his afro and handlebars shining with whatever he puts in them and his camouflage gi tightening around his muscular frame.
“Yes sir,” I say breathlessly and smile and bow at my opponent as her eyes narrow; she has no idea how good she got me and I’m shaking my legs a bit to fight off the urge to drop to my knees and explode, “I just got caught with a good body shot.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have,” Master Everett says, his salt and pepper beard and southern drawl accent shaking out as I almost jump when I hear him. “You’re gonna be a black belt soon; you gotta stop being so sloppy.”
“Yes Master Everett,” I respond
“No, don’t blow me off like that,” he says, stepping forward as I look around at the others in the class. “It’s all fine and dandy that you’re making friends with people, but you’re always going soft in sparring. Yeah, we know you’re friends with her and you brought her here, but that’s what the headgear, mouthpiece, and pads are for. You’re getting beat by a white belt. You’re not teaching her anything if you let her beat you up. Alright! Resume!”
“Sorry, Tiffany,” Sumiko says as she raises her fists
“For what?” I say, the pain and pleasure deep and digging in my stomach, “You got me. Don’t ever feel sorry for doing what you’re supposed to do.”
I raise my gloved fists and look at Sumiko. She’s Filipino at about 5’3” with a great body with large breasts and an hourglass figure with dyed reddish hair and she wears blue contacts. I’m 5’11” and about 160 lbs. I’ve got a honey complexion, long black hair that goes to the middle of my back, gypsy’s brown eyes, big breasts that I try to hide and a big butt that I try equally as hard to hide, big thighs, strong legs, and my feet are cute because I take care of them. My stomach is flat and my navel is sticks in, is shaped like an almond, and is cute, but my stomach is delicate and sensitive. I played basketball and volleyball in high school, but I gave that up to concentrate on my studies in college… plus, I didn’t think I was all that good.
I started tae kwon do when I was a junior in high school and picked it up in college, since it’s free for students. Plus, the men and women who are over it are all in some form of public service. Master Owens (9th degree black belt) is a detective; Master Everett (6th degree black belt) manages a Good Will; Master Maya Williams (3rd degree black belt) is a nurse and she’s going to be a doctor, and Master Alana Devereaux (3rd degree black belt) teaches English at the female prison she used to be a guard at. There are other black belts, and I am a week away from being one, if I get my forms down correctly and pass any other surprise tests they have for me, but those black belts are even younger than I am. I’m just 18 and I don’t mind taking orders from anyone younger than I am; it’s just that they really used to take liberties beating on me during sparring, kinda like they were trying to see if I could take it.
I slowly circle Sumiko and I launch some quick strikes to her face, tagging her all four times and she makes an “unnhh” sound, more out of fear than hurt (I don’t hit hard in sparring; it’s always light contact with me, but I can’t say that for the others) and she backs up. I feel sorry for her, but I get her with a leg kick to the side of her left knee and she winces, backing up even more. I walk her down and raise my fists, tucking my elbows in and I let her hit me in the solar plexus… it’s not that hard, but hard enough to make me lower my arms and sigh.
“What are you doing?” Master Everett says, “Why’d you just let her hit you like that?”
“Master Everett, I was just letting her get used to-- OUGH!!”
I shouldn’t have turned my head to look at him because she cranked up a big hard right hand just above my red belt. I try to stay on my feet, but I go down to one knee.
“That’s it,” Master Everett says, “I’d hate to do it to you, of all people, but thirty push-ups and three laps around the dojo.”
“Yes, Master Everett,” I say as I get to my feet, trying not to hold my stomach, even if it’s killing me. I glance at Sumiko… yup, me and my big mouth.
It seems like yesterday, but it was only a month ago that Amanda shoved me up against those lockers and was punching me in the ribs with her left hand. Amanda was this olive skinned Italian American girl with dark brown hair and brown eyes, about 5’7” 125 lbs and she cut a good figure with small breasts, a flat stomach, but a big butt, big legs and good definition in her arms. She had been bullying Sumiko and some of the other girls who were doing their work studies in our dorms. She would just push Sumiko down or corner her and not let her leave the bathroom for no reason at all. I didn’t have a problem with Amanda because I didn’t know her that well, but I got tired of seeing her treat people like dirt and we got into it in the locker room at the campus indoor swimming pool. I don’t remember what was said; I just remember she pushed me and because the floor was slippery from our wet feet, she got me up against the lockers and started hitting my ribs. I wasn’t intending to fight her; I just wanted to get her to leave the girls alone, but it was what it was and her punches weren’t that hard, but like I said, I’m weak to the body and she was getting the best of me.
“Come on, you fucking tae kwon do ho!” she said, wearing an ugly baby blue two piece, showing off her flat stomach and large oblong navel, and me with my black one piece on. She grabbed my hair with her right hand and hit my cheek with two short hooks, and I got my hands on her breasts and shoved her, but she didn’t let go of my hair and I was pulled over and onto my stomach. She kicked me in my right side and I cried “Ahhh!” when her bare foot got me; I thought she might have won, but she didn’t try to mount me or pin me down and when she came in on me, I threw a punch that hit her right on the point of her chin. Her face took on a look like she was about to cry and when I got to my feet, she slapped at me to stop me from advancing, but she didn’t know that I’m not a straight forward fighter… I work the angles.
I didn’t know if she wanted more, but she showed me by coming forward. By then, Sumiko was watching and so were some of the other girls; they knew both of us and I heard the door shut. She threw a right cross at me and I easily blocked it and got her with a leg kick, buckling her. I could see her mouth was hanging open and she was tired from swimming, so I jabbed her nose and her head snapped back and she almost went down. I remember thinking “wow, either I hit hard, or she’s just soft.” I wasn’t at my best either; those shots to my ribs and that kick had me hurting and my confidence wasn’t up, but I could see that she wasn’t really interested in fighting anymore, but didn’t want to back down. I just had to make sure I didn’t give her a reason to get interested.
That’s the key to fighting; you have to have confidence, or else it doesn’t matter how many years you’ve trained or how high a belt you are, you will get beaten. That’s what Master Owens always tells us and I’d been in enough real fights, not that many, but enough of them to know that a person with no training and a fighting spirit will beat someone with years of experience and just forms and maneuvers. That was and still is my problem; I lack the confidence to really know if I can apply what I’ve learned in class to a real fight with so many different things that can happen. I’m just not a fighter; I don’t go out to start fights and people don’t really pick them with me because I’m tall and I’m Black and I can pretend to act “ghetto” or use my real intelligence and tell them off… in a nice way. My heart is in my music; I’m a blues singer who can play saxophone, guitar, and piano. Martial arts was just a way to lose a few pounds, stay in shape, and learn commitment. But I had to confront Amanda because I don’t like seeing people get mistreated and I spoke up… now, I was in a fight… me and my big mouth.
Amanda kept sizing me up and staring at me; I would throw one punch or a leg kick and she would almost go down and the more I looked at her, the less she looked like she wanted to continue. I started feeling sorry for her and that’s when she caught me with a shot to my chin. I made a “mmph” sound, but I didn’t back up. I think I have a pretty good chin and my face doesn’t swell up from punches, but it’s not like I’ve allowed myself to get hit there that much in sparring or the few real fights I’d had. I put together a combination straight out of class, a left hook to her jaw, a right cross to her jaw, a sweeping kick to her right hip, a straight right hand to her chin and she kept backing up and looking helpless. Then, I got a little low and threw a straight right to her stomach, right for her navel… her body shook and she made an “UUHH!!” sound, then she sighed and squatted, then went to her hands and knees, then just on her knees with her forehead on the floor and her hands clutching her stomach. She was surprisingly soft there and she stayed down. She had bruises on her legs from where I’d kicked her and a bruise on her stomach from where my punch landed. She also had a busted lip. I had broken cinder blocks and wooden boards with my hands and feet, but I still couldn’t believe I had done that. Amanda got to her feet and looked at Sumiko, while I stood with my hands on my hips, but more rubbing my ribs and trying not to look weak.
“I’m sorry,” Amanda told Sumiko, “I would never have messed with you if I knew you were gonna get your friend from tae kwon do class to come and beat me up. I would’ve just let you beat me up yourself. I just think you’re cute; that’s all.”
Defeat was on her face, in her eyes, in her body language. She looked at me and sized me up again. I gave her my meanest expression as she hugged Sumiko and kissed her almost on the lips. It was weird. Sumiko and I got to talking, well, more like I got to talking and she got to listening. I took her to my dorm room and I explained to her that she would continue to get bullied until she stands up for herself. Sumiko was one of the most docile girls I’d ever met, even more docile than I was. She said that she’d been bullied all her life, by people in her family and people in school and friends; she just thought it was her place. It saddened me. I tried to teach her a few punches, but she didn’t really flex her arm muscles and she was afraid she was going to hit me, even if I was standing out of range.
“Okay,” I said, “then let’s talk about some defensive techniques. Look at me when I fight; I hold my hands high, but I try to protect my stomach because that’s my weak spot. I keep eye contact with my opponent so that she won’t fixate on hitting me to the body. Plus, I’m taller and my reach is longer, so it’s best for me to stay on the outside and fight; if I let my opponent get close, she may get to my stomach and hurt me. So, when you‘re fighting, you have to maximize your abilities and hide your weaknesses. I may wear pants that shorten my torso; if I‘m fighting, that makes my stomach less of an obvious target because my pants are above my navel. I like to wear hip huggers and I‘m not really one to get into fights, but you‘ve got to be cautious because we women are soft and sensitive.”
She was staring at me and she seemed really interested in what I was saying.
“Most girls grab hair and slap or they throw punches to the face,” I continued, “a good shot to the stomach will freeze those girls right in their tracks, especially if it’s low, like right around the navel. You can hurt them with a shot to the solar plexus, a little below where your ribs connect in the front, and freeze them as well, but it’s nothing like a shot to the stomach. That’ll take their wind and their confidence. They’ll go down like Amanda, wondering what happened and wanting to continue, but knowing that they can’t and questioning their own desire to get back up and keep going. Bullies aren’t used to losing fights because nobody stands up to them, but once you beat them, they’ll always remember. And when you lose a fight for the first time, you always remember, and it‘s difficult facing that person again, especially if you‘re used to getting your way. I want you to come and join our tae kwon do class. It‘s free for students and you‘ll be able to gain the confidence you need, not just in case you have to fight, but for your life.”
I remember a cold wet night in October not too long before I entered college. I had gotten home from a football game and I was still wearing my then boyfriend’s jacket as I got out of his purple Chrysler Le Baron convertible. Mom and Dad weren’t home, so we were making out in the car and he was fingering me, but I hadn’t climaxed. I had to get him to stop because I didn’t know when they were going to be home; he didn’t like that and he pulled off. I was walking up the driveway when I saw my neighbor and her cousin. I also got along with Liticia the neighbor, but her cousin Aisha was kind of mean and was going to one of the lower class high schools. She was right around 6’4” and had light brown skin and hazel eyes with hair that was a bronze color. She was biracial and beautiful, but she acted so trashy and she was known for being one of the dirtiest centers in ladies high school basketball, but she was very good and expected to go to a big school; they nicknamed her “Big Red.”
We had played against each other last year on my birthday after she took out our center with an elbow that knocked out her front six teeth. I was the starting power forward, but I was moved to center in the middle of the game and with my martial arts training, I was able to throw Aisha on the ground during the game after she gave me a forearm to my kidney when I was trying to get a rebound and we got hooked up. My coach told me not to be intimidated by anyone on the court. I scored from the outside and scored from a distance because I was faster. When she tried to grab me or get dirty under the basket, I was able to maneuver around her, and when she tried to stare me down, I’d just walk away and keep playing ball. I dropped 44 points and 12 rebounds on her. We blew them out and I got to play center for the remainder of the season and had scouts from UCONN, Tennessee, Rutgers, and Stanford coming to my games.
But here they were, outside smoking weed in the cold, slippery street and she saw me. I nodded at her and kept going.
“Hey yo!” she said and I turned, “We gonna get y’all back in a week. You ain’t gonna embarrass me this time… not in our house.”
“We’ll see,” I said in a very friendly tone, but she walked up to me and got in my face. I looked at Liticia and she gave me that “I’m not getting involved” look. Aisha was sizing me up and all I wanted to do was get inside out of the cold; the ground was slippery and it was starting to drizzle.
“You ain’t so tough now, huh?” she said, blowing marijuana smoke in my face, “You ain’t got your teammates and all them people backing you up now, huh? They told you to throw me down, huh?”
“No,” I said; at this point, I was freezing and my eyes were burning from the smoke and the smell, “I did it on my own.”
She grabbed me by my shoulders and started shoving me back, but I planted my feet and just tried to push her off of me. “Stop!” I said because I was losing my footing and she was pinching my arms through the jacket.
“C’mon, bitch,” she said over and over again and I was sliding on the concrete, but I was able to let her go and give her a shove to try and reverse the momentum. I was moving her back slowly and she was the one who was sliding at this point. Then, she planted her feet when we slid to the right and her feet met the edge of our lawn. She let go of me with her right hand and punched me in the stomach with an underhanded shot that hit me right on my navel, but pushed my stomach in, up, but then, she pushed down and twisted her fist… I doubled over instantly and I felt myself climax all over the inside of my jeans. All that build-up from being fingered and kissed and having my stomach rubbed just shot out of me. I could hear her saying “C’mon bitch; fight me, you pretty bitch,” but I just stayed there, on the grass in front of my house, doubled over, holding my stomach and panting as my juices were running all down my legs. She saw that I was soaked and she thought I had peed on myself. I looked at her and I was completely embarrassed, but more so, I was completely defeated. I couldn’t get my stomach muscles to tighten and I couldn’t stop climaxing or feeling this submissive defeated feeling deep in my core… where she hit me. I didn’t cry; I just went inside, took a bath and went to bed. I felt violated by the punch and violated by defeat and… I liked it and hated it at the same time. I don’t know if that makes any sense; maybe I would’ve felt differently if I hadn’t been holding in so much juice.
That was the first time I was ever punched in the stomach and that was the first real fight I had ever lost… and I made red belt the next day. During the basketball season, Aisha dominated me on the court because she would get away with elbowing me in the stomach. She knocked me out of the tournament when our schools faced each other when she elbowed me hard in the stomach; I had to be carried off the court and my parents and family were there. I still had a great season and I still had scouts coming; Aisha was supposed to go on to a big school and be a top center; she was supposed to be banging on the court with Britney Greiner or Maya Moore, but she beat up some girl outside a club, then showed up to another type of court and stood in front of the judge high on marijuana, and her potential career was over. I hear she got with one of those cage fight training schools and now, she’s trying to get into mixed martial arts.
So, Sumiko punched me and my mind drifted to all of these different places and why being hit in the stomach completely immobilizes me, but pleases me in a very unique way. You never forget the first girl who beat you and you never forget that feeling. Some people can obsess over it forever and others can live with it and overcome it… but no one ever forgets. I make black belt the next week, as expected and Sumiko advances to green belt. We decided to go out and celebrate at one of the local bars outside of the University of Cincinnati’s campus. I’m not a drinker; and after making black belt, I sure wasn’t going to. We both got Sprites; I just always felt it was a cool place to hang out, especially around this time of year with all the Christmas cheer and everything. But you know that saying about it being a small world? There was Aisha, standing at her full 6’4” of beauty and rage, staring right at me from across the room. She recognized me; not much about me had changed in a year except that my breasts and butt had gotten bigger and I was wise enough to stay single. Sumiko kept asking me who she was and I felt a deep torturous poking deep in my navel and around. My nerves were going crazy… then Amanda walked in too, with a group of girls. I felt like I was stuck in the series finale of “The Sopranos.” I wondered what other former enemy of mine was coming to the bar tonight for Christmas karaoke. I told Sumiko to stay where she was and that if Amanda bothered her, to remember her training, and I got up and went outside and waited for Aisha… five minutes… ten minutes… twenty minutes… I went back inside as the snow started to flurry, and I didn’t see anyone, not even Sumiko. I went into the bathroom and saw Amanda on the ground. She looked unconscious. Then I heard noise coming from one of the stalls. I kicked it in and saw Aisha choking Sumiko.
“I knew I’d get your attention, you fucking pretty bitch,” she said
“Aisha, what the hell?” I said, “Let her go! What is this about?”
“I owe you an ass-kicking!!” the tall girl with the bronze hair said and left Sumiko’s head in the toilet. My friend was out cold.
“You beat me when we fought!” I said, “What did I do to you?”
“I heard you made black belt,” she said, “I heard you are on the Dean’s List every semester. I heard you don’t even take tae kwon do for self defense and you just get to stand around and look pretty. I hate bitches like you because you never had to earn shit! You got money; you got education; you got it all and you never had to fight for it, like I do! Well, I’m making it in the world now; I’m gonna be a star, but first, I gotta take you down and get you out of my mind!”
“I still don’t know what I did to make you so angry,” I said; she was just crazy.
“I had a scholarship until that game where you scored all those points on me, bitch!” she said stepping forward, “I couldn’t stop thinking about that, even after I hit you a year later. You didn’t even fight me back; you just took it and turned the other fat ass cheek. Fuck you, Tiffany! Now, I’mma make you fucking fight me! I‘ve been training and I‘m gonna wear your pretty ass out!”
Yup… I guess you never do forget your first loss. Aisha was dominant on the basketball court until I took her apart. But I still didn’t understand why she was taking it out on Sumiko or me. And I had no idea what happened to Amanda. I didn’t have time to think about it though, as she showed what she learned at Punishment MMA by kicking me in the solar plexus and the next thing I knew, I was on my back, staring at the Christmas lights inside the main room of the bar… she kicked me through the door. I thought about staying down; I wanted to stay down… but I became a black belt on this day and maybe, it was time I got the memory of Aisha out of my head. The people in the bar pulled me to my feet and Aisha raised her fists.
“I’m not going to fight you here, Aisha,” I said, “I’m not going to get arrested; that’s your style, not mine.”
“Let’s go to the campus dojo; I’ll kick your ass on your own turf again,” she said
“I’ve got a better idea,” I said, “I’m going to get my friend and we’re going to walk to Punishment MMA and I’ll get in the cage with you for a fight that we’ll just tell the trainers is a sparring session.”
“Bitch, I’m gonna wear you out,” she said as I started in to see about Sumiko.
“Maybe,” was all I could muster as I walked back into the bar. I thought about just getting Sumiko and not going to her training center. Punishment MMA wasn’t like my dojo; they were exactly what the name implied. But Sumiko was intrigued by this and begged me to go… I still couldn’t figure out why. What had I gotten myself into? I kept thinking I needed to turn back around and just go to my dorm, but we were there before I knew it. Aisha was waiting for us outside in the snow. She was in a black tank top and black shorts with blood red and bronze trim with “Big Red“ in fiery letters on them. Her small feet, well, small for a 6’4” girl with a nice figure, were taped and her toenails were red… just like mine. I had on my gi and black belt under my jacket… she looked at me and smiled.
“Come on in, bitch,” she said, opening the door, “Let me introduce you to my world.”
I looked reluctantly at Sumiko, lowered my head, and in we went.
To be concluded….
