Arm Wrestling

I have a list of sports that i esteem so low i feel none of them
belong in the Olympics and rightly so.

Arm wrestling is not one of them.
I tried arm wrestling once and I am not sure whether it was the mix of
intimidation and humiliation that made me lose, or that for all the
nineteen years of my life I had lived in a state of heightened
self-delusion resulting in my humiliating loss.

It was not C's strength that I found intimidating; it was the starry,
retarded way her eyes focused on me, like Mike Tyson getting ready to
feed. I didn't even try to put up a fight the first few times, but the
celebratory high-fiving and hooting, combined with half a gummy ear's
torso still stuck to my eardrum, were reason to grow delirious.

"Fine, you fucker, let's go!" I yelled.

Getting into position on the floor while my friend T video-recorded
what would inevitably turn into a violent episode of The L Word. I
hoped I could turn my anger and humiliation into a sort of rabies
strength but was reminded time and again who was in charge.

Losing in conjunction with the stadium cheering was not the worst part; after
she beat each one of us, she would leapfrog onto the back of our
heads, crushing our faces into the tiling, and then spank us.
It was beyond embarrassing.

After that, i could never look C in the eye afraid that she would take
any opportunity to remind me how scrawny I was. I did everything in my
wheelhouse to avoid a one on one altercation. I averted eye contact
and generally made sure that we were never alone in a room.

I have not seen C since then. Everything about her scares me. I
suppose it has to do with the fact that she looks like a transgender
villain, and that at the time she was dating a man with shoulders the
size of a barge and a head like a steamroller.

I suppose my problem with her was that she was an unattractive
heterosexual who acted like a lesbian on steroids. That and the fact
that she dressed like a truck driver and cursed like one too. If
anyone had asked me if she were a woman, I would utter and reiterated
that no, I did not believe that she was female and that if we did any
further DNA investigation her constitution would prove me right.

Although her voice did all the proving one needed, it boomed from wall
to wall, end to end. Shaking the rafters of the house. I suspect she
is the reason why the earth would grow silent everytime she spoke.
Even a whisper from her sounded like a scratch to your eardrum.
I wonder about her sometimes, especially now.

Is she married? Living in a house with a white picket fence with her
children, little man girls with broad shoulders and buck teeth.

Or maybe she realised she was a lesbian after all *place-know-it-all emotican*

Vulnavia T. Gura


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