Face Punches

I have never been punched in the face.

I can’t decide if it’s something I’m missing out on or not. I mean, nothing gets the ol’ adrenaline flowing like a good punch to the face, right? Well, I assume… I wouldn’t know, of course, having lived my life in the shades of grey afforded to the punch-less.

I know it would hurt, but wouldn’t it also make me feel alive??? Alive in a way I’ve never felt before???

Truth be told, not only have I never been punched in the face, I’ve never even been in a fight. Not counting the literal millions of scraps I got into with my brother growing up. Sibling fights aren’t “real fights” in the grand scheme of things, after all.

I’m talking about a bar fight. Or a street fight. Or a Wal-Mart fight over a Playstation on Black Friday. The kind of fight that escalates from some simple smack-talking, a few “bitches” being exchanged, one person calling the other ugly or fat, and then someone reaching their hand out, grabbing a fistful of hair, and IT. IS. ON.!!! Screaming, punching, rolling around on the floor, YES!!! The drama, the unbridled drama, of a fight with a stranger!!! Oh, how I long for it.

Okay, not really.

But kinda.

I think it’s because I am your typical non-confrontational sort. I would prefer to go with the flow, stuff my feelings, and pretend like everything is fine rather than start business with someone. Confrontation is to be avoided at all costs. If a giant lady with a mustache at Wal-Mart tried to steal my Playstation, I would probably hold onto it as long as possible then call her a filthy name under my breath as she walked away with it under her lumpy arm.

I will go out on a limb here and broadly generalize that most women use words as weapons rather than fists and fingernails. This combined with being a complete weenie, has led to my fascination with the mentality of a physically aggressive woman.

How does she make the transition from talking behind someone’s back to slapping someone’s face? At what point does it become okay to reach out and grab the hair? Did she not go to Kindergarten and learn “we don’t hit”? Is her medulla oblongata too small or perhaps she’s “got all them teeth but no toothbrush” (yet another ancient movie reference for ya)?

Important questions, all. And questions that I will probably never get the chance to answer for myself, sadly. I will never have the opportunity to be punched in the face by another lady. Curse you, wonderful parents who taught me to be nice!!! (Just joking Mommy, I would never actually curse you. I’m not in trouble now, am I?). My ween-itude is so deeply ingrained that I can’t even begin to imagine a scenario in which I would pull someone’s hair or they would scream at me, “Bitch, it’s ooowwwwwnnnnn!!!” and take me to the floor.

Maybe I’ll just add it to my “bucket list” (someone please come up with a better term for that, it has to be the cheesiest thing in the universe), something to look forward to in the nursing home years…. “Punch in the face and/or chick fight.” Right underneath “get a boob job.”

Have a wonderful week everyone, and try not to get punched in the face. And if you do, tell me all about it.

P.S. I was doing “research” for this blog, watching video after video of women with questionable upbringings duking it out in the street, and I learned something that I feel is important to share. Should you ever find yourself involved in a kerfuffle, please friends, take them to the ground, sit on them, and start flailing. It is essential to be the person on top. Safety first.

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