It seems like I’ve spent the better part of this year on the minor injuries list, so it was with joy in my heart that I could finally do a dageki (gloves and mitts) class the other day. It was just Togo-kun and me, and he is about a foot taller than me and half my age.
He offered to do the mitts for the first round, then it was my turn. But being the sweetheart that he is, he didn’t want to hurt me any more than I wanted to be hurt. (When you hold the mitts, you have to absorb a great deal of impact, and my shoulder had only just recovered from a mitts-related injury.) Fortunately, Sensei demonstrated a rare moment of kindness and offered to do the mitts for me.
I know, I know. The belly is out of control. This lack of exercise is doing me in bit by bit. For Pete’s sake, I’ve even got the beginnings of Bingo Wings.
Don’t know what those are?
Imagine a woman of a certain age with a bouffant hairdo wearing a sleeveless double knit polyester dress emblazoned with over-sized azaleas. She raises her arm and calls, “Bingo!” and the skin on the underside of her upper arm flaps back and forth.
I refuse to give in to Bingo Wings. I will not allow them to get the better of me. So far, at least, 50 has been leaps and bounds better than 49. I am determined that it will stay that way.
* Thanks, I think, to Wendy for introducing this term.