A Woman's Best Friend Is Her Heavy Bag

This week has been horrid. I didn't make the roller derby team, my landlord didn't check that I paid my rent and gave me an erroneous eviction notice, my boss and I had an arguement. What else is a woman to do? Go to the gym.

Every woman should have access to a heavy bag. Nothing like pounding out one's anger on it. You just envision whoever or whatever it was that pissed you off and then beat the bag into submission. I thought of taunts while I hit the bag. For the roller derby team: "So I'm supposedly not good enough even though I've been skating for 30 years? Take that!" For my landlord: "I'm taking your ass out for not posting my rent payment correctly for the third time!" For my boss? I danced around the bag and threw my hardest punches until I was so tired I had to sit down, catch my breath, and calm down for a round or two.

This past Wednesday, there was another of those moments when everyone in the gym froze. Junior hit Mike hard enough to knock the wind out of him during a sparring session. Mike groaned and crumpled to the canvas. He recovered, however, and finished out the time. I'm looking forward to seeing both of them compete in the Golden Gloves next week.

Tonight, Keith dropped in. "You stay out in Aurora?" I asked him. I remembered he had a girlfriend who was out that way. "Naw, I'm still in Evanston, but it's hard to get around without a vehicle," he said. "Yes, Lord, don't I know it," I said, agreeing with him. Last year at this time, I was driving to and from the Golden Gloves in my own car.

Judging by how frosty my boss and I have been towards each other most of this week, asking him if I can leave early for the Golden Gloves will probably be a waste of time. What did he tell me during our arguement the other day? I gave him a suggestion as to how I could get a rather difficult task he gave me and he tells me he didn't want to hear it. I'm always complaining and being "rude and insubordinate", he said. Another hard pop on the heavy bag. The chain holding the bag jerked angrily in the air. I do the work, regardless, don't I? I get things done, DON'T I?
My right hand smashed into the bag over and over.