This is a receiving mitt; used when on the other side of the punch.
Since turning 40 again, I have felt like Life is wearing the gloves and I, the receiving mitts. At my last class today before a forced month long retirement (umbilical hernia surgery) and other physical bullshit that is keeping me from being my full self, I punched like I would never punch again.
Then I told myself to shut the hell up. Be glad that even though your old ass body is betraying you on many levels, you are still standing and holding the receiving mitt, smiling with your missing tooth.
If memory serves, I can take any fucking punch you throw, Life. Lord knows there was a period between 1998 and early 2000 that you went all Tyler Durden on my ass.
I’ve not been knocked down yet.
So, to the Tumblebunnies who have expressed frustration and a battle with an uncertain enemy this week, I say join me. Let’s put some makeup on that eye, shake it off, and get back in the fight. Let’s fuck with Life’s head.