I Used To Be A Brawler

First of all, huge thanks to Reanna from Rock The Single Life for giving my name to Jesse over at DudeWrite. I was honored to get asked to write a post to represent some of the blogging dudettes out there. I also hadn't heard the word dudette since junior high, and it made me laugh. For that reason I figured I HAD to contribute. When I asked if there was a theme I was told no, but that I would be writing for a mainly male audience. So I chose a burly subject. It's hella manly. Warning: this post has rockin' ass chest hair. Not ASS chest hair. Ass CHEST hair. You know what I'm trying to say. And if you don't, you deserve to get socked in the ass chest.

I used to be a brawler, not a baller, but I kind of used to be that too. I am naturally, freakishly strong. I can lift ridiculous amounts of weight without even trying. It's not something I harnessed. It's something in my genetics. I wonder if I wasn't born with an overabundance of androgens, as I used to kick people's asses. I know that those of you who are regular readers know a bit of my past, but may find it hard to believe that peaceful, generally Zen-like Melanie, used to relish in beating people until something on their face or body was broken, but I did.

It all started when I was in grade school. I would watch kids getting picked on and I would get so angry I would punch whoever was doing the picking. I detested bullies. I didn't understand why someone needed to belittle someone who obviously couldn't defend themselves. I never picked a fight just to pick one, but I always ended up at least yelling at those who wouldn't leave the scrawny kids alone.

Moving on to junior high I came more in touch with my inner weirdness, and started getting better at skateboarding and was a pretty huge tomboy. I played soccer. I wore Cure t-shirts. I didn't care to do what the popular kids were doing. The ridicule started being aimed at me. That didn't last long. When you break a few noses, or knock kids out with one punch, the teasing begins to stop. It turns in to, "Yeah, leave that girl alone." I was fine with that. I was proud of it even.

In high school I started beating up nazi skinheads. It didn't matter if they were male or female. If I saw you in nazi skinhead garb I would just run up and start kicking the shit out of you. Unfortunately those people ran in packs so I generally ended up on the ground, with many boots kicking me in the face. I didn't care. It didn't even hurt me while it was happening. The next day was a whole 'nother story. I got a reputation around town. I was the girl who stood up for what she believed in. Even if it was in an ass backward way. People respected me. I liked it.

When I was 15 I had a boyfriend hit me. I weighed about 110 at the time. He uppercut me so hard that my feet left the ground. I just got up, looked at him and said, "You are going to regret you ever did that." He didn't look scared. He did look scared when I showed up the next day with two guys who held his arms, while I beat him with a sawed off bat. I yelled at him while I was hitting him, "You will never hit another female again, right? This is what women do when they don't want to put up with your bullshit abuse. Consider this a lesson."

I got the nickname Mafia, because I would never raise my voice when someone was acting crazy. I would just turn and say calmly, "You're acting out of line. You need to calm down." If they did, it was fine. If they talked back or acted up worse, I would just turn and beat them unconscious.

I am really glad that I got over this behavior, and was able to see how ridiculous and useless it was. The last two fights I was in I just threw my arms down and let the people beat me. One of those ended up with me having almost every bone in my face broken. I looked like Eric Stoltz in the movie Mask. But I was very proud of myself. I consider those the two hardest, and best fights, I was ever in. I hope to never fight again.

I see grown people fighting and I feel so sorry for them. I feel bad that they didn't do the inner searching and self realization to figure out why it is they are so damned angry. What is is about themselves they fear so much they need to act out? 'Cause that's what anger is. Anger is fear mutated in to something outwardly ugly. Pretty much all terrible behavior is fear based. I am grateful I know that now. I am grateful I can look at someone being ridiculous and just shake my head and hope they don't go through the rest of their life acting that way. People say I used to be a badass. But I say I am way more of a badass now, than I ever was then. It takes way more strength to try and understand and have compassion, than to throw a punch.

Happy picture of the day: this is my next tattoo. Pixelated just like this because I love Donkey Kong. It's going on my inner left forearm. On the other arm I'm getting a Tetris piece. Old school video games por vida!

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