World Domination Part 2; Part 3 pending....

In the last post on World Domination, I originally wrote:

I wouldn't call derby girls... negative or rude or brash (although we can, indeed, be all those things).. I just think that there comes that point when roller derby creates in us this empowered, strong, raging woman, and we can't deal with things that hold us down, or keep us back from being who we are, achieving the things that we want.

Derby has done this for me.

Derby has changed the way I see the world, the way I view women and women-owned/operated organizations, men, jobs.. Everything.

Personally, there's a change I need to make... Slightly edit the words I chose, because I chose incorrectly.

See, "can't" and "won't" aren't the same. "Can't" insinuates that we can't hack the pressure, that we fold and we give.
"Won't" is so much stronger. "Won't" is like giving Life the finger for the hand you were dealt, and saying you're going to kick its ass for being such a dick.

Can't.. is, pardon the language, for pussies. Can't means you're weak and you're giving up.
Won't... well, won't is such an ass-kicking word, now isn't it?


It took a long time for me to find, and come to terms with, my inner roller girl, to finally give life the finger and start kicking ass.
Quite a long time, actually.

In the past few years (7 years to be exact), I've had 4+ majors, got the boot from both my degree department AND my sorority while I was president of the 'professional fraternity for women'. I ran away to the desert to find myself, leaving my already in-shambles life and (then) wonderful boyfriend behind.. I came back, was dumped, was actually homeless for a little while (thank GOD for good friends who let me crash at their place until my lease started). I had no money, no apartment, my managers weren't giving me any hours.. It looked very possible that I wouldn't be able to take classes because while studying abroad, the FinAid office messed up all 20 of our accounts/scholarships/grants/loans, making it look as if we had not paid our bill, and therefore could not register for classes.. Making it look like we needed to pay $6500 up front, out of pocket. It began looking very likely that I'd have to drop out of school and work for a while...

But let's rewind just a tiny bit...
On the 12 hour flight back from the desert, I watched a little film called Whip It.
I am absolutely not ashamed to say that Whip It was my catalyst to becoming a derby girl.
Before Whip It, I didn't even know roller derby existed.

When I came back to the states, and arrived at the University, I was greeted by an ugly fight with my then-boyfriend. See, he'd started to pretend I didn't exist while I was thousands of miles away, across an ocean. So, things were, to say the least, tense.
I would've ended it, but when we first started dating, his fraternity brothers threatened me if I broke his heart... So I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of his brothers saying 'I told you so'.
My pride was already sore, so I couldn't - wouldn't - give in to his frat brothers.

It was more of a divorce than a break-up.
The awkward fact that we have a large circle of friends and constantly run into each other.. The fact that his friends were mine, and mine his (which, would later become VERY apparent, since he started dating one of my especially easy 'friends' shortly after he left me.. which is also a pride issue, because when you won't give it up, it seems they'll seek out someone who will.. when you're across the ocean.. in a third world country, stomping throuhg fields looking for ancient pottery). The fact that it took him MONTHS - literally MONTHS- to return my things back to me, and when he did, he gave them to one of my friends instead of me.
(However, he should've known me well enough to know that he had to come to me in order to get his things back...)

This post is not about him.
It is not about our relationship, or his shitty fraternity brothers, or deciding who gets to keep which friends and which DVDs...
This post is about ME.
It's about how lost and broken I was after all those things happened in rapid succession.
It's about what a mess I was.
WAS.

When he was too afraid to return my things to me, in person, I realized I was a derby girl. Through and through.
It was the moment when I finally felt strong, powerful and intimidating.

Who knew it would take a messy, ugly break-up, a trip to a smelly cave in the middle of nowhere in east-jesus Jordan, a bit of being homeless and broke to realize how powerful I am, how much I can handle, how I am strong and alive.. And how much I'd forgotten in that year and a half.

I matter.
I matter.
I matter.

I had mattered. I did matter. I've always mattered. And I forgot.

I attribute parts of becoming a derby girl to the lessons I learned in Jordan, playing in the dirt.
(Find my blog/memoirs on my trip here )
I was slowly realizing that I'm tough and resilient and can take anything. WILL take anything, and I will beat it.
Jordan was hard work. It tested my physical boundaries, my mental and emotional boundaries, boundaries with some of my favorite people in the world... and I beat it.
Being Jordan meant I could fight, and win. When the chips are down, and I have swollen mosquito bites and I throw up in the field and I'm forced to go home by my field supervisor because I still wanted to work while sick... I learned I could conquer.

See, we all have our journeys to becoming a roller girl. They're all similar, but they all matter, because what is derby other than finding out how truly capable you are of living? Of beating the odds? Of kicking ass?

It's honestly not very fun to rehash all the ways I was slowly turning into a derby girl. It's not. There were some rough times that I'm, honestly, not quite over yet. There was a lot of shit in my life. I was worn down, and kicked around, and beat up. So I ran away.
Hell, I'll own up to it. I ran away.
Thousands of miles away, across an ocean, to an entirely different culture, to a third world environment where I had to pee in Turkish toilets and learn to love goat meat, to live and work for a few months with people I barely knew.
It was a gamble, I know. But I chose it. I ran away.
When I came back, I told people I ran away to the desert to find myself.
Before I went, I cried and fought it and cried some more.
I was being a baby - did i really want to leave my reliable plumbing, drinkable tap water and manfriend who made me steaks and force fed me jelly beans and made me laugh when I was sad because I burned the biscuits we were supposed to eat for breakfast?

I couldn't have made a better choice. I ran away because I couldn't hack it.
"can't" is a powerful word, even if it is, indeed, for pussies.
I had convinced myself I couldn't do it. I couldn't handle my life.

My life didn't change from "can't" to "won't" until August 2010.
I was terrified. I made Amy, my now-wife, go with me to recruitment.
I was SO SO scared.
I'm actually pretty sure I threw up before I went into the rink.

Looking back, being that afraid was so silly.
But we're all derby girls (and boys) here, so let's call a spade a spade, be honest, and remind ourselves that we were all scared.
Derby girls are some of the most terrifying women on the planet. FACT. (Which is the entire reason I feel comfortable titling this post about derby "World Domination". Because, duh, roller derby and all of us living in the culture are so entirely capable of taking over the world.)

See, I'd had experience with organizations for, and by, women. It was actually a professional fraternity for women. Our goal was to be strong, upstanding women, to be role models to little girls in our profession.
Let's just say that experience didn't end so well for me since I got kicked out of both my degree program AND my sorority because of some not-very-awesome women. ...And hell, maybe they've gone through transformations too, but then... They were not very awesome. They were hateful and rude and it made me hate girls. I hated all things girl. I hung out with boys, I spent my time in frat houses- I stayed the hell away from girls, because I couldn't take it.

Couldn't. Not wouldn't.

So, it put a bad taste in my mouth. I imagined that all girls were conniving and self-serving. That they were mean and manipulative. That girls were not to be trusted.
See, roller derby was everything I imagined myself to be.. Or wanted to be.
Strong, kick ass, intimidating, respected females who also wear fishnets, eyeliner and tutus? Women who were self-assured and could hold their liquor?
I wanted to be all the women of roller derby.

I needed to be all the women of roller derby.

Because I simply couldn't handle life the way it had been arranged for me.

So, August 27th, I strapped on a pair of rental skates and glided around the rookie track like a baby calf on ice.
Maybe "glided" isn't the right word. I stumbled and faltered.
I wasn't good.
At all.
I couldn't skate.
I fell a lot.
My legs wouldn't work with me so cross overs were out of the question.

I honestly don't remember any of the drills we did, or anything that was said.
But I do remember how I felt once it was over.
Relieved.

Relieved that I'd found something worth fighting for, something worth attaining.
Relieved I could believe in women again.

Relieved I could start believing in myself again.

Could.
And would.

Derby isn't half assed. The women involved are not pussies. It is hard, and hard core. The culture is both forgiving and unforgiving. You either live it, or you don't. Can't doesn't exist. ...Unless you break a bone, or get a hematoma.. then can't might sneak into your vocabulary. "I can't bend my knee" "I can't lift my arm." But those are different than "I can't mend my broken spirit" "My heart is too broken, I can't go on."

Derby girls know injuries.
We know that hematomas hurt like hell, and bench you for a while. We know that broken collar bones damn near put us out of commission and make us miserable. We know the pain of torn ligaments and plates and screws. We also know heartbreak, the pain of a broken spirit, the sting of life's cruel jokes when we're broke and broken.
But we know that it's much more painful to not get up.
We don't say "I can't get up". We say "I fucking will get up - I'll show you, Life". (and then we cunch life straight in its vagina...)

But resilience is just a small part of our World Domination plan - I wouldn't want to share too much. :)

World Domination

The M.E.O. Podcast Network: The M.E.O. Podcast Episode 17 With The Springfield...: "Sandra Day O'Slaughter and Mary Lou Wretched of The Springfield Rollergirls sit down with Eric & Merr at The M.E.O. Command Center to disc..."


I'm currently listening to the MEO Podcast, featuring Sandra Day O'Slaughter and Mary Lou Wretched chat about our team(s) and their overall roller derby experience.

The lovely Ms Wretched definitely said something that struck a chord with me while talking about her job, and being unemployed.

"I am actually currently unemployed, *laughter* which, interestingly enough, there are a few of us on the team who are not working, and I think that what ends up happening is you kind of get to this place, and I think a lot of us have been this way with roller derby, where you're like, 'I'm not gonna deal with this shit anymore.'"

Abso-freakin-lutely.

I really felt the same way with my job.
All through college, I had the same retail job. I had seen managers come and go, co-workers come and go... And granted, the majority of my time there was not terrible. It was a solid job. I got hours, I worked with great people... But there came a time when the leadership changed, and I had to put up with a lot - A LOT - of grief about my life and who I am and roller derby...

And, cutting the shit, I got tired of being called a lesbian by people in leadership positions.

(Let's face it- It wasn't being called a lesbian that was offensive, because really? That's all the creativity that you have? You can't call me something that's actually offensive? It was because it was said multiple times, on the clock, by people who are supposed to exude an air of professionalism, and responsibility while in charge of an entire store.)

"I'm not gonna deal with this shit anymore."

So. I quit. And I'm jobless and poor, but to quote Jack's Mannequin "being poor was never better."

I wouldn't call derby girls... negative or rude or brash (although we can, indeed, be all those things).. I just think that there comes that point when roller derby creates in us this empowered, strong, raging woman, and we can't deal with things that hold us down, or keep us back from being who we are, achieving the things that we want.

Derby has done this for me.

Derby has changed the way I see the world, the way I view women and women-owned/operated organizations, men, jobs.. Everything.




Being poor was never better.

Injury Fears

I've finally been rostered for my first ever game with the Battle Broads... We'll be taking on the ladies of the Circle City Socialites in Indianapolis.

I'd be lying if I said I'm not afraid.

It's the injury talking, I know, but it's still a tiny bit terrifying to will your knee to heal in 2 weeks so you can play your first ever bout against a team that you know virtually nothing about.

(I'm actually going out on a limb writing this, because I know some of the CSS ladies could end up reading this as some of them follow me on twitter and tumblr...)

ANYWAY.
I know I'm not the only one who is slightly worried. My teammates have been asking if Alice will be ready for gameplay...
My answer is that I don't know- which might be the scariest answer of all.


I am afraid that since it's my first bout, I'll play poorly, I won't block efficiently for my jammers, I won't be a good asset as a teammate...

That I'll re-injure myself because I'm playing like I'm scared.

I'll get over it, I'm sure.
But in the mean time, I'm going to sell my body (see also: plasma) so that I can buy 187 pro's before the bout at Indy.

Frustration.

The roster for our first B team game is out.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't bitter or angry or sad about it.
I understand I'm on the injured list... I get it. I know that knee will take at least one more week of healing, if not two.
But I am itching to get my skates on and hit someone. Especially someone who is on a different team....

I know, I know... Once I'm healed and all better, I can go tear some shit up.
But right now is when I start to feel like everyone is going to progress past me... and my team is going to resent my time off when I come back and expect rostering or playing time.

No one talks about this part of injuries, because it blows and no one wants to read it.
No one wants to think about having to receive the roster email when they're not on it. No one, when they're pissed about their injury, particularily wants to be that supportive teammate who attends all the away bouts and cheers everyone on, but would rather be on skates.

I guess I'm just tired.
I drove 3 hours to KC to visit the family, I did 12 loads of laundry (give or take), watched a bunch of movies... Tomorrow I have to go to church with the parents (and have an impromptu, unwanted high school reunion with all the people who didn't and don't talk to me anyway...), then drive to Kansas to have dinner with my brother, sister in law and newphew, my parents and my sister in laws family.
I love my family, I really do... But I think I'd rather be in Springfizzle, moping about, knowing there's always someone who wants to hang out with my bad attitude for a bit, no matter what time of day.

Gross. This is all so whiny.

Broke and Broken.

My knee hurts. Yes, I do whine and complain a bit.. But, today, my knee hurts.

I had my follow-up appointment with my Ortho today. I had originally schedule the appointment with an ortho surgeon that my derby wife (AKA Thugz N Kissez) works with on the surgical floor... However, when I got to my appointment, it was with another Ortho (not a surgeon...)..

He actually ended up being really rad and the Wife and I were able to talk about derby for a little bit. He thought Alice the Hematoma was incredible, and very pretty. :)

He squished around, poked and prodded, and eventually said, "Okay, you have two options- you can let it ride, and be aggressive with ice and elevation and bracing, or we can drain it and give you a cortisone shot."

He could see the hesitation on my face, so he said the wifey and I could have a chance to chat about it, and he left the room... I then allowed her to tell me what to do, since I am A, irresponsible, B, a scaredy cat, and C, hesitant when someone suggests shoving a giant needle under my kneecap.

He was incredibly jazzed when I told him I would allow him to shove steel into my knee. (I'm fairly certain he just wanted to see the junk he could pull out.. heh..)

So, he came in with two nurses, and the wife documented the ordeal with photos which I hope she'll post somewhere so I can share them here with you- I know I was making really stellar faces during the impromptu procedure. :)

He rubbed me down with iodine (kinky? sigh... I wish. He was a FOX.), and then stuck me a few times with a numbing agent.
Then jabbed me with a needle that resembled something out of a science-fiction film.


He proceeded to jab and suction and jab and suction.. Homeboy was trying REALLY hard to get something - anything - to come out. His hands were red, and his muscles were a-shakin'... He happened to mutter "Shit, this hurts my hands!" and when nothing came out on the third or fourth try "SHIT." Which, of course, made me laugh. :)

We were all a little disappointed that congealed blood, reminiscent of grape jelly, did not come slithering out of my knee cap.

However, THANKFULLY, he unscrewed the plastic syringe contraption and screwed on a tinier version to squish the cortisone in- instead of stabbing me again. :)
This was much appreciated.
However, a cortisone shot was, and excuse my language, the weirdest fucking feeling I think I've experienced. It was thick and made my knee feel very, very full and taut.

Once it was over, he shook our hands and went to leave- but the wifey had made $80 brownies for the surgeon we expected to see, and gave my Ortho one. (Which, um, might've been the best brownie I've had in ages- and I'm a BAKER. Incredible. I chose a great wifey!)
After he had the brownie in hand, he left the room, but about 4 seconds after, poked his head in the door, and in an almost-whisper asked, "Do you want more pain meds?"

Um... is this a trick question?

The downside to this whole lovely experience was seeing the cashier. I never have an issue with the whole unemployed (because my manager was sexually harassing me and wouldn't stop calling me a lesbian once she found out I play roller derby... (and really, lady, I've been called worse. "Lesbian" is the most creative thing you could come up with??)), no insurance scenario until I have to talk to grown ups about grown up things like how much money I owe the hospital when I know I only have $50 in my bank account... (41.99 of which I spent on my pills...)
Thank God for the wife, again, for being a more responsible, attentive grown up than me.. I was so overwhelmed with giant needles and foxy doctors and numbers and figures.. Everything got lost in translation.

My wonderful parents came to the rescue and gave me a loan so I could get a percentage off my bill by paying the day-of the appointment. Thank God for my parents- I really am a lucky girl for having such caring, generous, wonderful, loving parents. They really really saved the day.

So. I filled my Hydro prescription, went home and felt sorry for myself since I was broke and broken.. Then I applied for some jobs. Because I need one ASAP.
Preferably one with insurance, but definitely one that pays decently.

This post is very rambly... I blame it on the narcotics.



I also attended practice tonight. It made my heart ache, but also made my heart glad to see that my teammates of the Battle Broads, and the ladies of the Rowdy Unrostered are improving by leaps and bounds. I'm so sad I'm not on the track with them, but I know that for the bouts coming up, we have some really stellar ladies fighting for our B-team rankings. :)

We even joked about taking an SRG Crips photo full of awesome-sauce and blue bandanas, as there were 4 injured ladies on one bench, watching the practices.

Maybe I'm broke... and maybe I'm broken.. and maybe I broke Sandra Day O'Slaughter's car window on accident... But I am literally forced to count my blessings for having such amazing people and experiences in my life.

And now, it's 5:10am and I am exhausted.. I must rest and prepare myself for Unemployed Lunch Friday... Where Molotov Coqtiz will be paying for my orange soda. We might all be unemployed (or on our lunch breaks...), but we sure know how to take care of each other.

grumblegrumblegrumble.

It seems the old adage is, indeed, true. Things do get worse before they get better.

It seems my knee has grown a mind of its own, instead of being controlled by moi. Today, I thought I would pick up my car from the shop and drive it back to the apartment- there's no knee-bending in that operation.
There is, however, foot maneuvering, which my knee did not appreciate.
My knee also didn't appreciate the freedom I gave it yesterday by using both crutches and not my immobilizing brace, as opposed to one crutch and my brace. So So, in backwards fashion, I'm back to two crutches and my brace. Lame, slow, and awkward- but it gets the job done, and I'd like to be as healthy as possible as soon as possible as it seems we have derby girls dropping like flies right now.
We have at least 5 injured. Me, with my hematoma, 2 girls with strained/torn shoulders, one with a messed up foot, and another girl with knee problems. And last I heard, one of our girls hurt her back (again) last night.

I suppose my frustration with my injury, and everyone else's injuries, is that we stretch and do plyometrics and take care of our muscles and bodies (for the most part)... So it seems strange and a bit silly that we still get injured, even taking such precautions to strengthen ourselves against such accidents.

But I know it's not IF a derby girl will get hurt, but WHEN.
Which leads me to looking at the bigger, more successful leagues. What are their injuries like, if any? What is the ratio to girls injured versus girls who are healthy and without injury?

Take for example leagues like Oly and Rocky Mountain... (you should know that the second search option on Google for Oly is "Oly Roller knee pads" lol)
Atomatrix - holla!

Those silly bitches wear cheap pad sets bought at places like Walmart. (Granted, I know not EVERY Oly Roller/RMRG/Nationals Ranked rollergirl wears tiny bandaid knee pads. It is the exception rather than the rule.. but STILL) I know this is because they are such strong and talented skaters that they don't fall down... THEY give the beatings, they don't take them.
But what stops those incredible ladies from being so easily injured?
(And as a sidebar.. look at that stellar form. I just... Holy shit. I can only hope that someday I'll have form like that....)

Is it because derby owns their lives, and they practice 3, 4, 5 times a week? Is it because they have better or longer training than us new baby leagues? Is it because their off-skate training is better or more intense than ours?

I really don't spend that much time pondering these types of things, but maybe I should. Maybe we all should.
What makes WFTDA Nationals leagues any less prone to injury?
Or ARE they any less prone to injury?

And further more, I think leagues should have a standing prescription at pharmacy's for pain killers. Maybe that sounds a little narc-addict of me, but let's face it- sometimes a tylenol3 really does the trick... :)

Sigh. Just my random musings while I ice my knee and wait for the ibuprofen to kick in...

I leave you with a new photo of Alice, my hematoma... Taken yesterday... the bruising has spread a little more to the inside of my knee, and a bit down my shin...

I just popped a few ibuprofen in preparation for a 3 hour car ride to Arkansas...
This should be an adventure.

My brother and I didn't get sick or hurt a lot as kids.. So, now that we're adults (I'm 25, my brother is 32?), and we get sick or hurt... we're helpless whiny babies. My brother- who is married and has 2 children- texted me "My belly hurts. Where is mom???"
I laughed at him... But then again, if I didn't have E, the wonderful roommate, I'd probably cry a lot more than I do now. lol
(I cried yesterday because I was having a breakdown and missed the first movement of my last orchestra concert. Because I'm a winner. So i stood backstage and cried - technically, I made it in time for the downbeat, but I was backstage, not ON it. The guest Tenor patted me on the back, gave me some clean papertowels for my hot mess of a face, and told me to sneak in at the beginning of the second movement. Lovely man, he was.)

anyway. more later, must depart!

Injury.

Injury isn't something we derby girls talk about.
Sure, we like to compare horror stories of things that are already past us... things we've already battled through and won.

But what about when we're going through it?
What about when your knee is bruised and swollen, trapped inside an immobilizing brace while you hobble around on crutches and you're baked on codeine, crying because you can't sleep, but you don't want to get up to go pee?

It's a lonely world, the injured world.
I have had incredible teammates come hang out with me, bring me soup, bring me all-natural bruise remedies...
But those moments when you're stuck on the couch (or orchestra rehearsal) getting Twitter updates from the game the All-Stars are playing in CoMo... well, those are hard.

In case you're wondering, yes. We're talking about my knee.
It's incredibly difficult to be a rookie who hasn't played her first game yet.. and to get injured the first night we skate on our new floor, right before rosters are decided for our first Battle Broads game...
I can look back and think "I should've bought those 187s.. if I had, I wouldn't have fucked up my knee in these protecs."
"If I would've gone to open skate, I could've gotten used to the floor before practice..."

But if I'm being honest, I did everything correctly during the pack drill, and that's why I hurt my knee.
Someone hit me, blocking for their jammer, I went down to a one-knee fall. My knee/kneepad stuck, and the rest of me kept going.
So I, of course, being uncouth with the vocabulary of a sailor, yelled choice curse words, and covered my face with my hand.
I do not accept defeat and I do not openly admit I'm hurt; Thursday night, I threw my helmet.

Eventually, I crawled/hobbled off the track and I sat around for a while with ice on my knee. It wasn't until I started thinking that I have to go on LOA, and if I do, then I won't be eligible for rostering for the Ft Smith game that I finally started to cry. So I headed to the bathroom, took off my shorts and tights, and sat on the floor and cried. And cried. And watched my knee swell up. And cried.
I am not a crier.. but my knee looked like this:



...and that's before it actually started swelling. By the time I got to the ER (thanks to my derby wife's mad driving skills, and good rapport with her hospital staff), it looked like this.



When you get injured, no one talks about how scary it is - not just to be injured in general - but to have to decide for yourself, for your team, what's better.. To play on an injury? Or to sit out and heal? Having to decide if your injury is bad enough to visit the ER, or if you can wait until later...
having to decide should you even go to the ER when you don't have insurance?
(Thinking about paying those bills while sitting in the wheelchair, being wheeled to the X-ray room...)

But what about life after injury?
I don't know anything about it, because rollergirls don't typically talk about their fears or their worries.
Well.
I'm one rollergirl who is all about talking, and putting my feelings out there.
And I'll be blogging about this injury. Because in all the injury blogs I've read about derby, they only talk about "doing what's because for the team might be what's best for you too" etc etc etc.

Horseshit.

Doing what's best for the team right now means I'll be sitting on my ass for a while. It means I've volunteered to bench coach for our games even though it seems that a Bench-Coach decision was already made without consent of the team or our captains. Mary Lou Wretched, our fearless co-captain, is a swell lady. She brought me soup, Arnica for my bruise, and a smile when she said she thought me bench coaching was a fun idea.
If anyone knows about injury, it's that lady. Several months ago, a few girls in Texas sandwiched her and broke her collarbone.
I know I'm Type-A and have just recently begun to work out 4/5/6 days a week... but Ms. Wretched is quite a tough cookie.. Going from running miles and miles everyday, to sitting on the couch because she's broken.. Well. She's the inspiration, not me.
(if you so choose, you can visit her blog at and check out her posts)

Right now I'm struggling to see the bright side of things when my knee hurts and I'm feeling sorry for myself and I'm being a big ol' whiny baby... Maybe it'll get better. I'm hoping it does.

But for now, I suppose I'll go take a shower so I can get ready for my last orchestra concert ever.
Then come home and eat some pills. :)

But I'll leave you with this glorious photo of me fucked up after my ER visit... My derby big sis thought it was hilarious and sent it to Wicked saying "@WickedSkatewear never looked so good. Even in an emergency after practice! http://plixi.com/p/92549174"
heh...

Just because I'm a derby girl...

—Does not mean I don’t appreciate kind or gentle words from a man in regards to my character or beauty.

—Does not mean I want you to talk to me in a disgusting, demanding and constantly innuendo-filled manner

—Does not mean I’ll go home with you after I’ve only had ONE beer… or ever, for that matter.

—Does not mean I am constantly my Derby alter-ego. I am still a lady, a college student, a musician, a baker, someone’s little sister…

—Does not mean that because I am wearing hot pants it gives you, a male, the divine right to slap my ass anytime you feel it necessary.



It DOES however mean:
—I’m confident and strong.

—I have 50 girls who will go to bat for me if shit ever hits the fan, or if I just need a squish every now and again.

—It does mean I can stick up for myself, and will do so if I need to.

—It means I’m better than dealing with men (and women, as it were..) who act like children, because I have enough to handle and do and take care of with my jobs in the league. I don’t have time to deal with your antics.

—It means I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions.

—It also means I’m perfectly capable of holding my liquor.

—It also means if you, as a man, continue talking to me like I’m an object, I will castrate you and have no qualms about it.