Although I had thought about women in my life, and my mum, fighting the first time I actually saw my mum in a fight happened in 1987 when I was a teen. This is a recollection of a real life event that played a huge part in my life.
It was a Tuesday evening in late August. Mum was going to pick up my younger brother from his karate class at 7.30pm and asked if I wanted to go too. We lived on a farm on the outskirts of a medium sized village. Unfortunately, my father had driven the business into the ground a few years earlier and all we were left with was a couple of fields and the farm steadings, that had been converted into lock-ups and were rented out as garages.
At 38 years old my mum was a beautiful woman. 5’8 tall, slim, tanned, with shoulder length dark brown hair and brown eyes, she was an elegant woman but had a quick temper. She was wearing her usual clothes – a red, light cotton, t-shirt with a v-neck and a light blue heavy cotton, mid-calf length skirt, which had stud fasteners from waist to hem, and was always open to mid-thigh, and blue four-inch high heels. Her t-shirt was loose fitting, but tight enough around her 34B breasts to show their shape and her nipples which always seemed to be permanently hard. Mum rarely wore a bra, and tonight was no different.
Mum always liked to leave early so she got a space close to the door of the school to collect my brother. We left the house at 6.40pm, I jumped in the front passenger seat of her Ford Fiesta and she reversed out of the yard. There were two exit roads from our farm, my mum could easily have reversed the car back into the yard and driven out the slightly longer route, but no, she decided that she wanted to leave via the more direct route and the car parked in front of the shed would just have to move.
Mum pulled up right behind the beige Austin Maxi, which was parked directly in front of the shed doors, and tooted the horn of her Fiesta twice. There was no movement from the shed, so mum told me to roll my window down. Three more blasts on the horn and mum shouts out the window “Hello! move your car!” the guy renting the shed looks out and waves, we can hear him saying it’s the owner and he’ll have to move the car. A woman’s voice in the background says “Tell the bitch to fuck off! She can go the other way “. As the guy who rented the shed walked around the Maxi to get in the driver’s seat my mum said to him in a loud voice “Tell that bitch if she got off her arse and moved her car instead of mouthing off she would get on better!” the woman in the shed heard the comment aimed at her and shouted in reply “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to you cow?” Mum snapped back “I would have thought that was obvious bitch!”
With that the woman stormed out of the shed just as her car was getting moved around the corner. She wasn’t as slim as mum, roughly the same height, dyed black shoulder length hair, and was wearing a vertically striped, yellow and white, knee length, sundress that had thin straps over her shoulders, paired with white high heels. “See what happens if you try and mouth off to my face you stuck up cxnt instead of hiding in your car!” she shouted while directly looking at mum. She then kicked the side of the car as if to force home her point.
I had fantasised about watching my mum fight for years, but now, with her arguing with a random woman, and me sitting in a car between them, I didn’t know where to look, and I felt embarrassed and nervous, but excited, and turned on all at the same time.
As soon as the woman kicked the car door mum had her seatbelt undone and was opening her door. She got out of the car and walked around the front to face the woman.
I was expecting an argument, but what actually happened was as mum came face to face with the woman next to my door she shouted “what do you think you are doing you fucking tramp!” as she lurched towards the woman, fingers outstretched like claws trying to grab the woman’s hair and scratch at her face. The woman grunted “Bitch!” as they grabbed a handful of each other’s hair and clawed at their rival’s face. Both were trying to kick at each other too as the women struggled against the passenger side door of the car.
Shrieks, screams, swearing and insults filled the air as the two women punched, scratched and kicked at each other. They were fighting right next to the passenger door of the car and I had a front row seat to watch as they attacked each other. Mum had grabbed the woman’s sundress, tearing the shoulder straps off, leaving her flabby, milky white boobs spilling out as she traded punches and handfuls of hair with my mum. I remember looking at her hard coral pink nipples bouncing around as they fought and thinking they looked smaller than my mums.
Ripping her dress and getting her boobs out on show spurred the woman on and she managed to force mums head down by the hair and bring her knee up into mums face twice before mum grabbed hold of the woman’s leg and both crashed on to the concrete floor. For a moment mums t-shirt was up over her head allowing her tanned boobs to swing free before both women rolled away from the car in a tangle of legs and arms, with hands buried in each other’s hair, which was lying in clumps over the ground.
As they struggled on the ground, breasts mashed together, punching and kicking each other, I could see mum’s legs open and show off her red satin knickers. Mum let out a scream as the woman had sunk her nails into her boob. “Get off my tit you fucking cow!” she shrieked as she tried to push the woman’s hand away. They continued to roll over and struggle on the ground. It was the woman’s turn to let out a painful cry as mum bit her on the shoulder. She responded by furiously punching mum in the side of the head.
The guy from the shed was back after parking the car. He said nothing, just lit a cigarette and stood watching as both women continued their brawl on the ground. Mum’s t-shirt had come off leaving her topless and her skirt was just hanging on around her waist thanks to one stud-fastener valiantly hanging on, while the other woman’s sundress was now just a yellow and white striped bundle of material around her middle giving everyone full view of her boobs and the white thong she was wearing. Both women had kicked their high heels off by this point.
The guy from the adjacent garage had come up to see what was going on and started cheering on the two women as they fought. Both were still trading punches and clawing at each other’s boobs and faces. Mum’s nose was bleeding and both women had angry looking scratches on their boobs, necks, and faces. The other woman had an angry bruise on her cheek and both were still spitting insults at each other as they fought on. Mum managed to get on top of the other woman and straddle her, she then started banging the woman’s head into the concrete floor by the hair. I watched on as she tried to buck mum off and regain the initiative, I was mesmerised by the sight of mums boobs bouncing and jiggling as she continued to punch the woman in the face and bang her head on the floor.
The guy who rented the shed had finished his cigarette and now decided that the women had fought long enough. He asked the other guy to give him a hand to separate the women and they pulled the brawlers apart. As he pulled mum off her skirt finally came away leaving her in just her red satin knickers. She was still kicking out at the other woman as she was pulled away, and the other woman was up wanting round 2 but was getting held back.
Mum took a breath, told the guy to get off her and proceeded to pick her clothes and shoes off the ground and walked out with the other woman still screaming at her while being held back. “I’m going to kick your cxnt in you fucking bitch!” I was still watching her struggle against the guy holding her back as mum got into the car and tossed her clothes and shoes on to my lap. She then reversed the car back around into the yard, told me to wait in the car, took her clothes and her shoes and went into the house. 2 minutes later she got back into the car – wearing the same skirt and shoes but this time with a blue t-shirt on and her hair tied back. She had wiped away the blood from her nose. “Maybe this time we can actually get away and collect your brother”. She drove out of the yard and past the garage where she had just been fighting. The other woman was still standing at the door, a scratched boob still hanging out of her torn sundress. She saw mum driving past and shouted, “This isn’t finished bitch!”. “Anytime you fat cow!” mum shouted back as we drove past. “I hope that bitch is still there when we get back, I like a good fight!” mum said as we drove along our farm road. Unfortunately for us both the woman was long gone by the time we returned, and her and my mum never crossed paths again.
