Posted on 14, Dec | Posted by Bam Bam
I guess blogs have introductions, don’t they? I’m new at this, but when Teresa Scott told me that The Women’s World of Boxing was going to have a blog, I signed myself up for two reasons. One, because I think she is an amazing, inspiring, magnetic woman with a strong vision (yeah, I think she’s pretty rad), and two, because I’ve always wanted to write for a blog, but I have never been diligent about keeping one. WWB is the perfect motivation.
Also, I’m quickly falling in love with boxing and want to write your ear off about all of our romantic moments (I’d say talk, but that doesn’t seem like the “write”—get my joke? —thing to say, since this is the Internet.)
I realize that was three reasons. I’m not a math major!
Anyway, welcome! I’m Bam-Bam, a nickname given to me by Teresa after I got annoyed with my long, sweaty ponytail and made an obnoxious bun on top of my head during one of our many rounds. I have always wanted a nickname, but it’s almost illegal to give your self one. For a while, I wanted people to call me boots, because I wear boots all the time, but that failed miserably.
Now, I’m obsessed with Bam-Bam. Call me anything else, and I’ll punch you. I’m kidding. Maybe.
I’m twenty-one, and about to graduate college, so there will probably be times in this blog when you think I sound like an immature twenty year old, but that’s only because four months ago, I was.
There will be other times when you think I’m amazingly intuitive, breathtakingly honest, and the deepest person you’ve ever met online. In short, I will be like Gandhi, but with more meat on her bones, because, let’s be honest, I could not live on one bowl of rice a day.
I should preface this blog with the fact that I am a comedy writer, though I will be attempting to write these posts as a dramady of sorts. If you find yourself laughing at inappropriate times, it will be exactly like the year I attempted to create a drama in Fundamentals of Filmmaking and got three solid minutes of laughter during the film’s screening. Bare with me, I’m learning.
I have always felt drawn to boxing. I’m not sure exactly why this is, but I’ve come up with two solid explanations. The physical nature of the sport, in my experience, is one that is engaging and social, while also being intuitive and solitary. I realize that those four things contradict each other, but this really famous writer once said, “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.” Am I comparing boxing to a Walt Witman quote? Yes. It makes sense to me.
The other reason I’ve always wanted to box is because after seeing Million Dollar Baby I decided that I wanted Hillary Swank’s body (after the two minute training montage, but before the paralysis) and the ability to make both Clint Eastwood and Morgan Freeman pay a lot of attention to me. One of those things is coming faster than the other. Eastwood and Freeman won’t respond to any of my fan mail and I’m pretty sure I received a restraining order the other day.
Finally, I am not so patiently waiting for the day that my hands can be considered deadly weapons. Don’t worry, I would never lock and load them, but the idea is awesome. That was three reasons again. I am on fire.
I guess that’s my introduction. How did I do? Before I go, I will say that the time I have spent with the women at WWB has been the most important hours of my year. Everything that I’m learning in boxing is applicable to life. Sometimes I stare at Teresa dumbfounded as I think, “why am I only getting this now?” Frequently, I need a punch coming dangerously close to my head before I realize how to move my feet.
When I found WWB, I was searching for a community. I was lost, confused, and in dire need of a physical outlet. I have never gleefully spent hours upon hours at a gym, I have never wanted to keep going, and I have never felt so supported and encouraged. Please consider donating to this wonderful community at http://www.indiegogo.com/Womens-World-of-Boxing. Every cent helps, and will lead us toward having our own gym, with our own space.
Thanks, Tee, you’ve changed my life and many others (cue sad music, tears, and hugs.)
