Posted on March 22, 2011


i like boxing.  in fact, i did kickboxing for several years, several years ago, but gave it up when i was told i’d have to combat.  me?  combat?  over-analytical me?  how about i choose not to get hurt? part of me has regretted it for years.  i really did love doing it and loved even more what it did for my body.  i could be girly… REALLY girly, but still be kind of scrappy, right?

last fall, a friend of mine took a krav maga class with me that was just so-so.  we also took a kickboxing class that i immediately fell in love with.  but at $120 per month and only being able to attend twice per week, max, i just couldn’t justify moving the funds out of the shoe fund and into the boxing fund.


a month ago, another friend of mine joined a boxing gym (you know… a ring in the corner and giant room filled with bags hanging from the ceiling) and i was convinced to join after some major strong-arm tactics forced me to love it all over again.  at an hour per session, my ass has been totally kicked – lately especially, considering i’m working/running/jumping/hopping/skipping/dancing on an injured foot/heel.

over the past three weeks, i’ve seen an amazing and majorly noticeable change in my body and energy level.  things are higher (energy), tighter (booty) and perkier (um… ahEM!). i am so invested in this boxing/kickboxing thing that i sprung for my very own tiny-hand leather boxing gloves (yummy.  leather.).  and they aren’t pink!!

DAY FOURTEEN:  but i am still the girl who will walk into the gym in a dress and 4.5″ heels, her hair done and a face full of makeup…

and i’m also the girl that carries her rugged gear in a hot pink tote bag, with patent handles and crystal studs (thank you, leslie!!).  you can drag this gal to the gym, but you’ll never make her wear sweats in public (outside of the gym, of course)!!

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