all leg

Did you know that Good Times airs on Saturday morning? I took in an episode while my friend thawed some ice on her busted lip. She had just been pummeled. Allow me to explain. Yesterday morning I went to a kickboxing class with my best friend. She had informed me beforehand not to laugh or call attention to myself, as the instructor would victimize me for the entire hour. The gentleman in question was a wiry guy with a military crew cut and a shouting voice which reminded me of Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men (imagine “I want the truth!” counting out reps). Every move we made was choreographed in 25 counts, double time. Today I feel like someone dragged me behind a bus, but that is a fine feeling. I really cannot complain. Jami goes to this class several times a week: she tolerates the beatings. Tom, I mean, Tim has kicked her in the head and punched in her cheekbone. This happens when the short-legged lady doesn’t partner up with her. Three of us were in class that morning, so to insure her safety, yours truly took her hand for the side kick lay-ups. The fact that I am all leg is something I chose to ignore as we practiced form for the first set. Tom shouted “ONE!” and I made impact. A target had been hit. “You just kicked me in the mouth!” she cried. Horror spread threw me: I beat up my best friend! She would not let go of my leg, insisting that I finish the set. If you know me, you know that I cope with being mortified by laughing hysterically. Here is the picture: I am up on one leg, with one foot less than five inches from Jami’s face and I am shaking like a leaf in a fit of convulsive giggling, while Jami has placed the collar of her shirt in her mouth to catch the blood and she is still holding my hand and my leg. This incident occurred in front of the entire karate class, waiting along the back wall. Jami is no longer allowed to have a partner.