No, silly’s. Not the kind you wear with a dress. The kind you have to earn. The kind that make bad guys shake in their boots when you come at them, with your French Tips nails in full eye-ball gouge mode. I want to have to register my stilettos as deadly weapons, and not just because I fell off them and broke my hip. I want to be known by code name: HEAD (Hot-flashing And Extremely Dangerous). Don’t look too closely at that acronym, cuz it’s messed up, but so what? I said, SO WHAT?!
Why, you ask, does Carolyn suddenly want a black belt? I’ll tell you why. Because a few days ago, I saw in the news where a 72-year old-woman was bird-watching in Central Park when she was attacked and raped at 11am! Broad daylight, folks! In a section of the park where there are a lot of people! According to the news, she’d seen him exposing himself a few days earlier and snapped his picture. He’d chased after her (eeeewww) and demanded that she delete the picture. Apparently, she said no. The day he attacked her, he asked her, “Do you remember me?” (Eeeeeewwww, eeeeek!) Poor, bird-watching Nana! Don’t the bad guys have some kind of code of ethics that says you don’t rape little granny’s who spend their time watching birdies at the park?
Clearly not. I don’t want this to happen to me. To my daughters. To my Wendy.
So, Wendy and I decided that very morning that it was time for us to get our black belts. To heck with the osteoporosis. Forget about the fact that only thing we’ve ever punched was a mound of bread dough. Time to explore our local self-defense options.
After a lengthy discussion, our first choice was a weekday, noon, free trial Krav Maga class. The price was right! What is Krav Maga, you ask? Why, it’s the official hand-to-hand combat system of the Israel Defense Forces, duh. Perfect for a couple of hot-flashers, huh?
Okay, aside from the fact that the Krav Maga class nearly killed us, we feel invigorated! Empowered! Ready to head to the park, for some bird watching, binoculars in hand, ready to kick the butts of perverts everywhere. Yeah!
Then again, maybe I’m not quite ready to fight crime just…yet. It’s been over a week and I’m still so sore, I can still barely get out of bed. That, and the fact that I couldn’t bust away from Wendy’s choke hold (did I mention she’s still a tad miffed at me over some negative comments I made about her latest manuscript?), and I had to put my head between my knees (never eat a big lunch before doing any kind of military hand-to-hand combat) and I’m thinking maybe we should take another class. Or two. We’ll see.