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Fat Guy BJJ Blog

The slightly sarcastic, nominally entertaining Brazilian Jiu Jitsu adventures of a 30-something Dad

Month

January 2013

Low Percentage Life and Fat Guy Haiku

Side control is a lovely position in which your new friend with the stinky gi lays atop you and uses his shoulder to press into your chest so you can’t flipping breathe.  It’s so much fun that the first thing you learn in Jiu Jitsu, after escaping mount (same basic idea, except they press down on your chest with their bizalls), is escaping side control.  You learn it, and learn it, and learn it.  Then you “roll.”

Rolling, as I’ve said before, is an exercise in failure.  Everything you’ve just learned, which works perfectly well when you are practicing, now fails.  Mostly it’s because the white belt has to process what he’s doing and the more experienced guy just does it.

White belt’s internal dialog (while trying to escape): “Step 1….bridge against their neck.  Step 2….block the cross face……Step 3…..what the fuck was step 3?……ah yes, Shrimp.  Fuck.  Why didn’t that work?”

Blue belt’s internal dialog (while circumventing escape attempts and smothering the life out of the white belt):  “It’s such a lovely day out.  That pita bread I had for lunch was really delicious.  I should write a poem while doing long division and choking this white belt simultaneously.”

Yeah, something like that.

Speaking of poems, here’s some Fat Guy Jiu Jitsu Haiku for you:

You think you won but,

Secretly I farted twice,

With you in my guard….

 

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Skinemax and the Underwear Lasso

I’m trying to figure out a tongue-in-cheek way to tell you all that I’m struggling….that I’m wondering if this shit is really worth it…..that I’m doubting myself and not seeing any progress, but sometimes I just have trouble being funny.

When I wake up in the morning, I’m more brittle than your mother’s dry ass cornbread.  I have to take pain meds or anti-inflamatories just to make it from my bed to the shower.  Then I have to soak my back and shoulders in hot water until I can move again.   Since I’m a fat bastard and I have an unimpressive shower, that means slow gyrations for maximum coverage.  It looks like soft porn on Skinemax.  Truly disturbing.

Then I have to put on underwear.  You’re laughing, but I’m serious.  I can’t bend over and pull them shits on because my legs, back, and arms won’t work correctly, so I have to perch precariously on one leg and bend my other leg at the knee and lasso my foot with the leg hole of my drawers, then pull them up, support myself on the counter with one hand while I do the same routine on my bad leg.  You fuckers don’t realize that when you’re sore after a jitz workout, I’m more sore.  Imagine doing your training with a midget wrapped around your waist.  That’s how it is for me.

Do YOU have to do that shit?  I doubt it.

Then I go through my workday….aching everything….and finally drag myself into the gym looking like roadkill and subsequently get destroyed by every new person who walks in off the street to start training.  I don’t win against old ladies.  I don’t win against blind people.  I don’t win against other fat bastards.  Ever.  You’d think I was the French army with all of the losing I do.

Then there’s the weight.  I kill myself, I lose 1.5 pounds per week.  I slip up for one day and eat wrong, I gain two pounds back.  Dafuq?

Sandbagging and Sunflower Seediness

My first clue that all might not be as it seems at the COPA Submission Grappling Tournament in Jonesboro, GA was when the guy who won the children’s division was in the bathroom shaving his chest prior to the competition.  Then there was the supposed “novice” who I saw sifting through seven different colored belts in his trunk before finally settling upon a white belt with two stripes.  Riiiiiiiiiiight.  If you’re a white belt I’m Rickson Gracie.

But, I digress.  All in all, it was a great tournament.  I didn’t compete, but I felt as if I could have.  Five minute rounds are fat guy friendly, and all douche bagging…oops, did I say douche bagging….I meant sandbagging…..aside, I could have made a decent showing.  However, I do have short list of things to work into my game before I finally compete in May:

  • Cardio
  • Sweeps
  • Guard Passes
  • Take downs
  • Closed guard
  • Butterfly guard
  • Submissions
  • Transitions
  • A convincing victory dance
  • Finding fat guy grappling shorts….

Yeah, other than those few things I’m ready to go.  Also, one sure sign that you are too tired to drive is when you dump an entire bag of sunflower seeds directly into the gear shifter area of your automobile, and then lose half of them into the transmission case, then hit your head trying to get out of the car, then curse loudly, then hit your head trying to get back into the car, then try to put the seeds back in the bag but miss half of them.

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