Friday, December 30, 2005

Boxing Day

Kindergarten was cool. That’s where I met my first best friend, Mickey. She was a real tomboy’s tomboy: fun to play with, and fun to look at. We were soul mates, destined to make each other happy for the rest of our lives. At that age, of course, I didn’t know what being a lesbian meant any more than I knew how babies were made. However, I knew I could be myself around her, and that was a novelty for me. She loved to play baseball, wiffle ball, football, and boxing. Like me, she refused to wear dresses, preferring blue jeans and T-shirts like her older brother, Sunny. Unlike me, she did not think the purple Tough-skins were cool. She liked her blue jeans blue.

Mickey and I were the two best female athletes in our grade. Looking back, it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to declare that she was the best overall athlete in our class, regardless of sex.

We were pioneers in our local Little League baseball squad. I believe we were the third and fourth girls, respectively, ever allowed to play baseball with the boys. I batted clean-up and played second base; Mickey’s third base prowess would have had A-Rod swooning, for sure.

We hardly ever hung out together in our homes. Mickey’s mom ran a flower store out of her home, and her dad was a welder, often fixing metal contraptions in the garage. The last thing they ever wanted was a couple of girls throwing a Nerf football in the house while they were working. God forbid we knocked over a vase of daisies or knocked the blowtorch out of her father’s hand. We loved to play outside, so none of this mattered to us much.

One day, we decided to go into Mickey’s room. She wanted to show me something that her brother had given to her. Wow!, I thought, we’ve been friends a whole three years and I’m finally going to see her bedroom! We climbed the stares to her cramped room. She lived in what must have been the attic before she was born (she was the youngest of four). I remember wondering what it was that her brother had given to her that would illicit an invitation to her ‘bat cave-esque’ bedroom. I stretched her Stretch Armstrong doll to full potential tautness while waiting in anticipation as she reached under her bed and pulled out a pair of old boxing gloves.

“These were Sunny’s. He said I could have them as long as I didn’t tell mom about it. She’d kill him for this!”

“Wow!” I replied as I took the gloves from her hands. “I love watching those karate movies where they fight, and stuff. These are really cool! I’ll sting ya like a bee!

“Yeah,” Mickey took the gloves back. “So, you wanna box?”

For a split second, my heart went a-flutter. The thought of getting all sweaty and heated right in close proximity was too much for me to bear. “But there’s only one pair.”

“That’s okay, we’ll each wear one glove.” She handed me one of the dilapidated gloves. “No punching with the other hand!”

I examined my glove a little closer. It was worn, with old shoelaces on the inside of the wrist, and ‘Everlast’ stitched on the outer wrist area. We both tied each other’s glove, and then Mickey threw her first punch at my left arm.

“Ouch!” I yelled, and then countered with a punch to her ribs.

She doubled over; “No hitting in the ribs!” then threw a right hook right into my left temple.

“Hey! That really hurt!” I screamed as I put my arms around her and tackled her to the ground. I pinned her to the ground with both arms.

“No fair tackling! Get off me! You can’t do this in boxing!” she screamed.

Time stood still. Everything was in slow motion, just like when my beloved Bionic Woman ran through the wheat fields. It was as if I was having an out of body experience. I thought to myself, “I’m never getting off of you. This is where I want to be for the rest of my life!”

“Get off me, damn it! I’m gonna beat the hell out of you when I get up!” I had forgotten about Mickey’s temper. It wasn’t wise to get her mad. On the other hand, I reasoned, she might just be mad enough to wrestle me to the ground and stay on top of me for awhile. I un-pinned her and stood up.

She wiped the sweat off her brow; no such luck with being pinned by her. She threw another punch at my arm. I ducked when I saw her right arm heading towards my head again. I feverishly wrapped both arms around her torso—hey, I thought, boxers do this all of the time! The only problem, from Mickey’s point of view, was that there was no ref to get me to break my hold.

“Let go!” She began to punch my back. I let go. I didn’t want to get her mad again, as she may never have wanted to box with me again.

We boxed for another half hour. I think I pinned her to the ground seven times. By the end of our bout, she swore that she would never box with me again if I wouldn’t stop fondling wrestling her to the ground. The thought of that broke my heart.

We had one more bout before her mother found out and took the gloves away. I told Mickey not to worry—I had the solution to our ‘no more boxing’ blues.

“Mickey, why don’t we just wrestle?” I exclaimed with my eyes beaming and heart racing at the thought.

Mickey knitted her eyebrows. “I don’t think so. That’s boring”.


“Come on…it’s three o’clock,” she proclaimed. “Let’s go watch Batman.”

Even the thought of Batgirl riding her purple motorcycle couldn’t erase the bottomless pit that sat where my stomach used to be.

tags: , , ,

©2006 Marcy_Peanut. All rights reserved.


Blogger Miladysa said...

Beautiful writing.

Happy New Year!

3:28 PM  

I agree. You are very talented and I am very glad that I found your blog! I hope you have a wonderful New Year! :)

10:55 PM  
Blogger Captain Canuck said...

How tragic! I mean, that your friend wasn't into wrestling.

When I was younger I had a wrestling buddy, and it's to our masculine tournaments that I attribute the later development of my robust superhero physique.

My love for brightly coloured body suits never really left either.

Nappy Yew Hear M.P!

12:32 AM  
Blogger WendyWings said...

Happy New Year. Michele sent me today :)

5:18 PM  
Anonymous Stephanie Davies said...

Oh my god, how sweet and how heartbreaking...what an amazing thing to remember. And you tell it so well too!! I really don't know what else to say as that story really made me all warm & fuzzy (And I am NOT a warm & fuzzy kind of girl lol). Pretty amazing stuff. I hope that if you are not with a woman who makes you feel like that again, that you find one soon :)

Hugs and best wishes for a great 2006 :) Oh, and Michele sent me!

5:27 PM  
Blogger Lazy Daisy said...

Wow, beuatifully written and a very heart felt story. Michele sent me. Hope you have a happy new year. Lazy Daisy (thanks for visiting my site earlier....)

5:33 PM  
Blogger Lisa said...

what a sweet and lovely post!

Here via Michele's today. Happy New Year!

6:15 PM  
Anonymous Old Lady Of The Hills said...

I love that you write about what I believe ARE your experiences..and if they aren't really, you make them come alive so I truly believe they ARE!! That's wonderful writing...

You know after you did that post about writing a fake memory of you and whomever, I stole that from you and made it into a Christmas Fake Memory...and then...about 10 people have done that since!!! You really started a wonderful thing...Craziequeen, has taken it one step further and she has chosen a certain amont of those "fake" memories and is now continuing those story's in her each day! Brilliant! You mught enjoy it if you haven't been over there..She comes to Michele, too...

I hope 2006 is a WONDERFUL year for you, and that all your dreams come true!

Thanks so much for the lovely things you said on my blog...I dearly appreciate them, with all my heart....

I love reading your blog and find your honesty refreshing and very brave too, especially so, in this nutty world we live in! Keep on Keeping On, dear Marcy..

5:56 PM

6:20 PM  
Blogger David said...

happy new year
michele sent me

8:55 PM  
Blogger margalit said...

Great story your friend wasn't into wrestling.

Michele sent me.

9:01 PM  
Blogger J's Girlfriend said...

Aaaaaw! The heartbreak. Very sweet though. Wonder where she is now?

And happy ny!

7:53 AM  
Blogger ~Deb said...

Haha!!! Oh you are bringing back some major memories for me. Wrestling was like foreplay when we were younger. That's so funny. This story was great!

Now, was this girl gay--or turned out to be gay?

Loved this post sweetie! Very well written!

1:08 PM  
Blogger flatlander said...

I was such a shy kid, I never got to playfight all that much. I wanted my neighbour to tie me up with a skipping rope, but she never did.

I guess I'm a little bent myself ;)

Happy 2006!!

6:25 PM  
Blogger marcy_peanut said...

J's GIRLFRIEND and DEB: I've only seen Mickey once since high school. She is married with a bunch of beautiful kids.

FLATLANDER: You wanted your neighbor to tie you up with skipping rope?? Wow, sounds a bit kinky. They always say the shy ones are the ones you have to watch out for!!! ;)
p.s. PLEASE check your email!!

9:49 PM  
Blogger flatlander said...

Well, that was a long time ago. I've moved on to other things...

10:05 PM  
Anonymous Last Girl On Earth said...

Great writing once again. It's amazing to think back on being that age and knowing that a good wrestling match might get you lucky in the home stretch!

1:14 AM  
Blogger ~Deb said...

I gotta start wrestling more with my girlfriend...hmmm...

8:53 AM  
Blogger L>T said...

I had an encounter like that once, but with a boy. frusterating. I was 12 it was a hide & seek thing in the dark. He pounced on me, innocently. But, I had a crush on him & it was summer; warm night, in the dark...I suddenly became very passive, then he shoved me & ran away. I hated him after that.

12:44 PM  
Blogger ~Deb said...

You're not taWkin' about 'hide the sausage'---are ya??? I hope not.

7:24 PM  
Blogger uglygirl said...

i dont know how you got to my blog!
did i leave a comment on your blog?
cos believe me i've been checking your blog for a week now, even if was not commenting.

3:24 AM  
Blogger marcy_peanut said...

UGLY GIRL: I've visited your blog before (under another screen name from my other blog). I recently came upon your name again in someone's camment area, although I can't remember where. I just thought you would like this blog. I guess I was right! I could add you to my link list, if that would be okay with you?

11:33 AM  
Anonymous ~deb said...

Marcy: Why would you want a little boy to ask you out????????


5:47 PM  
Blogger marcy_peanut said...

~Deb: SHANE is NOT a little boy!!! She's a beautiful WOMAN on The L Word.

And, BTW, get my name right, NIMROD! :P

5:49 PM  
Blogger L>T said...

What the hell is a nimrod, BTW???
Oh, I'll Have to look in the Big sec.

Nimrod;noun, the bible, the son of Cush, referred to as a mighty hunter: Gen.x.8-9
2.A hunter; a keen sportsman.

What the hell does that have to do w/anything?

10:30 PM  
Blogger marcy_peanut said...

L>T: Yes, NIMROD was one of the greatest spiritual warriors of the Old Testament/Hebrew Scriptures.

In today's day and age, when someone is called 'Nimrod', it is synonymous with 'idiot' or 'imbecile'. My friend Alex and I are trying to figure out exactly when the meaning of the name Nimrod went from being a warrior, to an idiot. Some claim that Bugs Bunny called Yosemite Sam a 'Nimrod', thus insinuating that he was an idiot type of warrior/hunter. Alex has said that 'Nimrod' (idiot) appeared in texts long before Bugs Bunny was created. This is a conundrum that we are trying to solve. If you would like to do some research, I'll repay you with some chocolate.

10:56 PM  
Blogger marcy_peanut said...

BTW--my mother's nickname is Nimrod (that's my nickname for her). I say it very lovingly. My point? I wouldn't call just anyone 'Nimrod'; they have to be very special to me! ;)

10:58 PM  
Blogger Chris said...

I had some friends we used to have these wrestling matches on the side of our house (I was 11 or so). My mom was so excited I was "rough-housing" with my boy friends. She was 'a little worried' about me (rightfully so).

Little did she realize that A) I was enjoying it way too much, B) the object of the game was to grab the other guy's nuts, and C) see A, above.

Later in Junior High School, we played "Guess what I'm doing under the water in the pool?" I won't go into details, but we were 14 years old, so you can pretty much put it together.

I'm surprised we weren't institutionalized.

2:28 AM  
Blogger L>T said...

I checked my, 'Morris dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins'.

It talks about hunters in the sports pages being referred to as nimrods, but, in the 'good' sense as mighty hunters.

maybe Language guy knows.

I'm not gonna ask him, tho. He's being crotchety. (crotchety, hmmm, wonder where that word came from? lol)

Maybe, nimrod just sounds too much like dimwit & dingbat.

10:49 AM  
Blogger uglygirl said...

do add me to your linklist.

11:13 AM  
Blogger medusa said...

i had a girl friend in school, and lesbianism was what the teachers in school and she hated in equal measures.
i don't think she ever knew she was the girl friend though, the tag of best friend seemed to justify all the make out sessions to her.

12:52 PM  
Blogger The Zombieslayer said...

Marcy - This was quite cute. I love it when she said:
“Come on…it’s three o’clock,” she proclaimed. “Let’s go watch Batman.”

That's so kid.

When I was in 2nd grade, I played Little League. The best picture was a tomboy and I thought she was cute, but the other boys saw her as one of the guys. I don't know why I was always attracted to tomboys. I even married one.

Anyways, I remember we played against her once. I had one at bat against her, because the starting pitchers were only allowed to pitch three innings.

She had a long, straight dark brown hair and pitched a mean fastball (everything's a fastball in Little League). I was actually scared of it. I remember swinging as hard as I could with my eyes closed and I barely got the tip of it. So I ran as hard as I could to first base.

The catcher must have picked it up and throw wildly to first because the next thing I remember was my coach screaming at me to go to second.

So there I was on second base against the best pitcher in Little League. I was the starting batter and I watched from second base the next three batters get struck out.

We ended up getting crushed by that team. But I remember giving her a look like she couldn't strike me out. Little did she know I had my eyes closed and it was entirely luck.

12:16 PM  
Blogger Gyrobo said...

Just smoke and shadows... smoke and shadows...

10:51 PM  

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