Karate Girls Feet Were Deadly Weapons To Fat Man

She looked harmless enough. 3 foot 6, maybe 3 foot 8.

Probably 70 pounds. I guessed she might have been 4, maybe

5 years old.

How can you be afraid of a child that small? Looks can

be deceiving, can’t they?

I’m a grown man. A fat man. I worked too hard in the

nineties climbing the corporate ladder, and I let my

waistline get away from me. Now I was paying the price for

too many chocolate cakes, 2 martini lunches and Must-See-TV.

I gasped and wheezed my way off the couch to a downtown

empty building turning ninja factory.

I’m standing in a freezing cold dojo, dressed in white

pajamas that they call a “gi”, with a white belt wrapped

around my waist. A bunch of midgets all under the age of

8 are standing near me.

A scruffy looking teenager stands at the front of us. We

call him “Master”. He barks orders at us, and we grunt.

And kick. And punch. And bow. I hate him. He is skinny.

I am not. I am gasping for air.

I am in my first karate class. They stuck me in a kids

class. I don’t think its funny. The sad part is I am the

worst one of the bunch. This little 5 year old girl keeps

wanting to spar me. This little karate girls feet and

hands are the size of a 3 Musketeers chocolate bar. And

yet I am sure she could kick my ass.

Why oh why didn’t I look after myself when I had the chance?

I hate doing knuckle pushups!

Note to self: everything from now on in moderation. No more

crazy eating, no more letting myself go. I hope I can be

a shining example to these children of what not to do!



Source by Yoshi Kundagawa

Granado Jane

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