I was at my boxing workout tonight - this new guy, he was 20-something - was there holding the bag as I was hitting it. When I finished he said, "Wow, she really hates men."
In my late teens I would have crumbled at the remark.
In my early 20's I would have clocked him when we sparred.
In my late 20's I wouldn’t have clocked him, but I still would have snapped at him.
In my early 30's I would have said, "Hate men? No, I fuck with just as much passion."
Now, in my late 30's all of these ran sequentially through my mind, but I let them all go... I just kept working out, shrugging his attitude off as his problem, not mine. I then proceeded to outrun and outpunch his punk ass.
I love being me.
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