Warrior Woman
The ambience music was floating through the room. Up at the front, the instructor directed the class using terms none of them quite understood, but had learnt to follow. The women took a large step, bent their front leg, found a stable position and raised their arms. One arm at the front, one at the back, the palms facing the floor. They looked over the right arm towards the mirror and saw the reflection of their stern faces. The position of the warrior. Hold it, hold it. Her upper arm muscles began to ache. She took a long, deep breath. Wasn’t that the secret to all life’s problems? After all science had proven that your breathing pattern could make or break you. In and out. The pain in her muscles slowly subsided. In and out. Iiiiiiin and ooooouuut. She looked at her determined face. She felt comfortable and strong. Wasn’t she a warrior at heart? Ready to take on the whole world? Fight for the rights of women, children, transpeople and obese cats? Okay, maybe the cat did need to shed some weight. He no longer even cared whether mice existed. That couldn’t be healthy, could it? In and out. She needed to focus. Their cat wasn’t that important. In and out. Her calf muscles were stretched to the maximum and began to tingle. The main thing was not to wobble, not to tremble. Warriors didn’t wobble. Focus. In and out. In and out. The tanned instructor smiled as he walked around the room. Pleased with the stamina of his group, he returned to the front and told them to finish the exercise. Her arms had slowly begun to droop without her noticing. Not to worry. The more you exercise, the easier you’ll be able to hold them up – like the Rock. He probably could sleep in that position. On second thoughts, maybe not like the Rock. At her age she didn’t need to increase her upper arms, didn’t need to provide them with more material to turn into chicken wings. All she needed to do was focus. Focus, plan and fight. But for what exactly? There were no borders to be extended or defended, no vikings to be deterred, no children beaten any where close to her. Even the transpeople she knew seemed to be doing well. Annoyingly well really. But she was and could still be a warrior, a fighter, right?
On her way home she dropped into the supermarket. In front of the wall chiller, she got confused by the choice of yoghurts. So many brands, so many flavours, so many sizes even, and then the eternal question: plastic container or glass? Life was tricky and you needed to focus, you needed to know where you were headed. You had to have a plan, a strategy, had to follow it through without getting sidetracked or browbeaten by love, by life, by too much or too little choice. She determinedly removed an organic brand of yoghurt from the shelf. On the way to the cashier, an old lady drove her full shopping cart into her – she let the glass drop and burst into tears.
On her way home she dropped into the supermarket. In front of the wall chiller, she got confused by the choice of yoghurts. So many brands, so many flavours, so many sizes even, and then the eternal question: plastic container or glass? Life was tricky and you needed to focus, you needed to know where you were headed. You had to have a plan, a strategy, had to follow it through without getting sidetracked or browbeaten by love, by life, by too much or too little choice. She determinedly removed an organic brand of yoghurt from the shelf. On the way to the cashier, an old lady drove her full shopping cart into her – she let the glass drop and burst into tears.