The gold hoops failed me.
Remember these bad boys (or should I call them good girls?) that I swapped in for my diamond studs, thinking they’d be “safer” for my first Jiu Jitsu class?
They were not.
In the first class, the backs did indeed get shoved against my head–not really a big deal. Second class, same thing, which elicited a weak “Ow,” from me. Still not a deal breaker.
But in the third class, during a guillotine head lock, I said, “Stop!”
[Brief sidebar: You don’t say “stop” in Jiu Jitsu. You tap, usually your partner, or, as I found out when putting my instructor in a choke hold, you can also tap yourself. “It’s a good thing I heard you,” I said after releasing him. Fortunately, slapping a rash guard is loud. Since I wear a gi, I’ll be sure to always tap my partner before I pass out, to be safe.]
Now let me back up.
On my second class, there were three male students, as in the first, but three entirely new men. One guy announced that he had just turned twenty-eight, was boisterous and talking jovially and familiarly with the other men. He readily introduced himself and shook my hand, which struck me as weird, since this seemed to be a strictly fist bump establishment. This guy was so 2019!
The second guy was maybe thirty and paid me no attention.
I kept a sharp eye on the door for Surfer Dude, but no luck. Instead I was partnered with the third man, “Lopez.” Saying he was merely twice my size would be flattering to him. I may have gulped a little when Lopez faced me.
Writing and Martial Arts 