The Queen Bee

The electricity was out at the field house, so the gym was not open tonight.  Alan called me a couple of hours before the gym was due to open to let me know.  He said he had some paperwork to catch up on, so it worked out for him.  I had to figure out what to do with my evening.  Cleaning the house?  Something I'd rather do in the daylight, and only if I'm in the mood.  Doing the laundry?  I still can't find my stash of quarters, and I'll have to buy a new roll of them.  Watching TV?  On Monday, nothing's on until ten o'clock when "Chelsea Lately" airs.

I still needed to write a Monday blog entry, but I couldn't think of what to put in this space.  Then I remembered Alan saying something last week about, "Hillari used to be the queen bee in the gym until these other women started coming in."  Yeah, I was.  I don't state that in a egotistical way.  I'm not stomping into the gym ready to start something like Aunt Esther.

Nor am I making grand entrances and airly announcing, "Look at me and be dazzled," like the fabulous Nene Leakes.

I think of being a queen bee partially because I've been there for so long.  It'll be ten years come this August.  I started out regularly showing up like everyone else, then I became a volunteer in 2006 (been a volunteer in the gym for six years as of this spring). 

I'm also a queen bee sort of like Honey West.  A bit of TV history:  "Honey West" was a detective series in 1965 on ABC, and the first show of its type to feature a woman chasing down criminals.  Honey was a tough cookie.  In just about every episode of that short-lived series, she was giving out beat downs.  But she wasn't so hard that she turned people off, and she was very helpful to everyone who sought out her assistance.  I like to think that I'm helpful in showing people that boxing is enjoyable.