Didn't quite make it within the week, but I'd say one day late isn't too bad :)
Don't get me wrong, being raised primarily by a single lawyer mother who spent years fighting for a spot in the industry, gave me a strong understanding of women's rights and the occasional tendency to act on blind feminist rage, but even I know that there are some things girls can not, and should not do. I take you now, to a sunny afternoon after school, and a little too much Milo, to when my sister and I discovered one such activity.
I blame the school , we had been learning japanese that term and had been recently shown a video on Sumo wrestling, that (coupled with a few videos on male bonding) had made us aware of the chest bump ritual. An action commonly seen amongst pro sports jocks, large territorial animals and people that are completely off their head. It involves two individuals running towards each other, leaping in the air with chests out, and slamming their torso's into one another to then fall back hopefully in a stance position. This can then be followed by a celebratory high five.... or a trip to the emergency ward.
Well blame it on the fresh air, or too much sugar, Alex and I decided to give it a go. Now before you make assumptions I would just like to point out that we are not completely stupid, we did decide to have a practice run with pillows. We started by both holding a pillow against our chest, learning quickly that it was important to full commitment to the act, otherwise the result was a mess of arms and legs. Then, similar to a game of musical chairs, we threw a pillow away and continued. This was met with mild success, we were fast learners, so bracing ourselves, we moved onto faze three.
Having discarded both pillows and taken a few more steps apart to insure maximum run up potential, we counted down to impact. THREE. TWO. ONE. We were of, running at full tilt, screaming like men on helium, getting closer with every second. counting down to impact, we were close enough to touch, to hug. insert screeching sound here. We chickened out moments before impact. We started laughing, at this point I'm not sure if it was at the fact we bailed or the absurdness of the situation. Which ever it was it did not deter us, and after a good laugh we decided to try again, pinky swearing our allegiance to the cause.
One, Two, Three, we took steps back, forever keeping eye contact. This time we were ready, visualizing the pillows, we counted down. THREE. TWO.....Two, and a half.. two and three quuuuarters... two and.... we had run out of fractions, there was nothing for it RUN we did... closer, and closer, our feet pounded the lounge room floor, one second till impact, I could see the beads of seat on her face, half a second.. there was nothing for it, I shut my eye's and braced myself. NOW leaping into the air we slammed into each other with enough force to knock down a small elephant. I felt my bones shatter, and my boobs become concave. I fell to the floor dazed and sore, trying to breath. Eye's closed and lying still on the floor I called out to her... "Alex.... you dead"?
"No", came a small reply... "but I think my boobs are".
So my female readers, I write this as a cautionary tale. Sure, your all strong, intelligent and independent women who don't need men to complete you. But the next time a guy tells you that women can't do everything men can do, stop, think about Alex and I, and tell him honestly, Your right... we have boobs.
Until next week... or later this week really ^_^