Fortunately, my husband is extremely tolerant and secure. I had just gotten back from an appointment with my young male massage therapist when I announced, “I like young guys!”
Hubby grinned, said, “Yeah, and…?”, and waited for the explanation I hastened to supply.
I mean, I do like young guys; what’s not to like? But I didn’t exactly mean it the way it came out. What I meant was, as an old(er) woman with a brain that refuses to accept that I’m not twenty anymore, it’s really nice to work with my young male martial arts trainer, my young male massage therapist, and (when necessary) my young male physiotherapist.
Because they don’t give me any bullshit about how I shouldn’t be kickboxing, or I shouldn’t be shooting, or I should back off on my weights, or whatever.
My middle-aged GP was horrified when I told her I was kickboxing. She issued me a prescription for a topical anti-inflammatory along with a severe admonition to quit. While she was at it, she suggested I go a little easier on my weightlifting, too.
The surgeon who fixed the torn ligaments in my wrist a few years ago eyed me cynically and told me if I was going to kickbox, he’d see me in his office begging him to fuse my wrist in another few years.
I know they’re probably right; I just don’t want to hear it.
What the hell, I could get hit by a bus next week. Then I’d be lying there dying in the road, all pissed off because I didn’t need those joints after all and I could’ve been kickboxing all along.
So instead of going to the doctor this time, I went to my massage therapist. He listened to my description of my various aches and pains and said, “But do you like kickboxing?” And when I said ‘Oh hell yeah’, he said, “Okay, you’re getting pain because your muscles are imbalanced here, here, and here. Here’s how to fix that…”
He gave me exercises, stretches, a massage that made me writhe in agony but feel better afterward, and most importantly, encouragement.
My martial arts trainer does the same. “Okay, you can’t bend your wrists. That’s all right, you can do this on your knuckles. Okay, you can’t kick today, so instead you’re going to learn two ways to break a guy’s arm and three ways to choke him. And here are a couple of submission holds.”
I love these guys!
No, they aren’t irresponsible. They’re professionals. They make sure I understand the potential consequences of my actions… and when they realize I’m going for it, they cheer me on and find ways to make it happen. They totally understand the ‘Go hard or go home’ mentality.
In a few years, I might look back on this and say “What the hell was I thinking? I’m in constant pain now because I was a moron who didn’t have the brains to quit while she was ahead.”
But maybe not. Maybe I’ll just grin.
Anybody else doing things you’ll regret later?