training | Writing and Martial Arts

Remember that time I got dressed up to meet Sensei at the library for zucchini? It wasn’t just for zucchini. We were plotting and scheming a Taekwondo class at my kids’ school.

Here’s the thing: everyone in my family is a Taekwondo black belt except Little Joe. That makes me sad for him. When my daughters and I did Taekwondo, we were Sensei’s last students before he essentially retired.

I’d like to argue that, since the very last black belt he handed out was to me, he broke the mold. How could anyone top that? But I pulled him out of retirement to help me start this class.

As a quick refresher of my post, Because I go to stupid lengths for humor, I had decided to forgo my usual ratty clothes by wearing my fanciest dress for a library meeting. At our next meeting, Sensei, who likewise typically arrives in the same red sweat pants and yellow or blue T-shirt, attempted to show me up.

Sensei dressed up. And he brought more zucchini. Of course.

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First, I got reprimanded for inadvertently insulting Balloon Man. When I lifted my head to explain, Instructor pushed it back down, silently saying, “Stop talking; do the move.” But at least, from what I glimpsed, Balloon Man did not appear insulted.

Nevertheless, I needed to keep mentally changing the subject afterward because being reprimanded by Instructor, which has happened three times now, makes me want to cry. I hate disappointing him.

Then it was roll time, and Instructor and Balloon Man sat right next to Money and me. I can barely function when I know he’s watching. I even said, “Do you really have to sit right there watching?”

“Just roll,” he said.

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