Fat Guy BJJ Blog

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


June 2014

I Never Lose. I Win Or I Learn, and Other Myths

I know what you’re trying to say, but that’s a load of mystical chode-munching horse shit! What if you go out, roll, get destroyed by a vicious triangle choke, and the only thing you learned was that you do not in fact like the smell of male testicles? If we learned every time we got spanked by a higher belt, pretty soon there would be no more spankings. And yet, the ass whippings continue.  The truth is that it takes 378 times of being smoked by the same move before you catch on.  I think muhfuckers are overestimating their aptitude for learning Jiu Jitsu.  Sometimes you just get flogged like Pee Wee Herman’s palm dolphin and there’s nothing you can take away from it, except humility, which may actually be a benefit depending upon how much of a douche you are currently.

How about this for realism: “I frequently lose.  I sometimes learn, depending upon whether or not the higher belt who just yanked my spleen out is feeling magnanimous.” That’s how shit really goes in Jiu Jitsu.  If you’re nice to others, don’t piss anybody off, and have cool higher belts around you, you probably learn more than you lose.  But there’s still no way to classify yourself as ‘not losing’ when they choke you hard enough that you actually snort, or when they body triangle you and you get that wet fart slipping out.  You know what I’m talking about.  Don’t play. Poopie undies always equals FAIL.

Sorry for the rant.  Sometimes you zen mother fuckers make me lose my shit with your whole ‘The world is cuddly puppies and double rainbows’ routine.  No, sometimes the world is a smaller man with a dirty gi strangling you in close proximity to his nut sack.  It’s not a fucking win.  At least not always.  In some places it’s a mating ritual.  Better be ready for that, bitches.

I digress.  Rants are fun.


The Octagon Choke

triangle_chokeYesterday we drilled triangle chokes.  I didn’t do well.  It’s not that I don’t understand the mechanics of the choke.  I do.  It’s just that my body won’t perform the moves.  It’s sort of frustrating.  The first problem is that, for me, it’s really more of an octagon choke than a triangle choke.  My legs are fat, so I’ve got some asymmetrical things happening there that make me look like I’m trying to open a canned ham with my knees.  Secondly, my gut prevents me from being able to easily sit up and grab my shin to tighten the choke.

Of course, other instructor guy is walking around telling me how I’m doing it wrong in very small words, because being a white belt is the same thing as being a full-tard window licker. We might have to have a Jeopardy challenge or a long division contest or something so I can show mother fuckers that fat does not equal stupid, but I digress. In all fairness, my technique did look like a porn shoot outtake between a grizzly bear and a chihuahua, so I can see why he might think I’m KiKi the wondertard over here.

In other news, about 1000 mg of Motrin seems to have done the trick on the back spasms.  I’m going to substitute that for a pipe and some meth next week because, hey, who doesn’t want to lose weight and kill pain at the same time?

And the Peasants Revolt: The Reason Why You Don’t See Mid 30’s Fat People in BJJ Class

So, I’ve been hitting the Jiu Jitsu pretty hard for the last ten days or so.  I’m trying to decode the mystery of ye olde blue belt slightly ahead of the 22.5 year time frame I’ve calculated over there in the right sidebar. In order to do that, I need more practice.  Which means I need more time on the mats.

OldManWithCaneThe problem with time on the mats is the aftermath.  I look like my normal, studly, svelt self, but I feel like this guy.  In fact, the more Jiu Jitsu I do, the worse it gets.  Yesterday I had full-on back spasms during Judo class.  We’ve already talked about my deep and abiding affinity for Judo, but trying to do it with a back spasm adds a whole new level of go-fuck-yourselfitude. Of course, the dudes that I train with think I’m a gigantic sandy vagina for sitting down until the spasm stopped.  And herein lies the problem.

You might see fat dudes in Jiu Jitsu because, frankly, Jiu Jistsu is a great way to lose some weight.  You might even see dudes in their mid 30’s strapping on a white belt and taking to the mats.  What you probably won’t see is a great deal of mid 30’s fat dudes.  Why? Because, dear reader, the mid 30’s fat dude has a body that is in full-on revolt against nature.  The mind says, “Yep, I can do that thing with the feet and the abdominal crunch and the pulling and the pushing simultaneously, no problem.”  But then, the body is like, “How would you like to go fuck yourself?”t625ad7_the-best-of-the-skeptical-3rd-world-kid-

And this is the frustrating conundrum of being that guy.  You want to train hard so you can make gains, but you hurt yourself every time you try.  Needless to say the super athletes be looking at you all like this:

“Oh, fatty needs a break huh?  We’re not even doing anything yet.” Exactly, dumb asses.  If I were going to skip out on some drills because I’m lazy, wouldn’t I wait until we were doing something hard?  Well, fear not super athletes.  I’m going to take about 900 mg of Motrin before tonight’s class, and we’re going to get it done.  Back spasm be damned.

On Judo, “Different Body Types,” And Other Nonsense

“Hey, I’d like to attempt this throw on some other body types,” says the skinny dude, twinkle in his gleaming eye. What he really means is, “I’d like to hear the sound the floor makes when I bounce chubbikins on his head with this judo move that I’m an expert at.”  So, I get thrown.  It’s like a right of passage.  Oh, you did it fine on me, but if you can do it on the fat dude you know your technique is good.  Either that, or it’s like learning to use your art in the worst possible case scenario.  Like, say, a Neanderthal springs from the bushes and outweighs you by 250 lbs.  Or, if you absolutely have to fight a grizzly bear. Yeah, better be ready for that.

And, while I’m at it….what the fuck is Judo?  It looks like the fucking riverdance combined with a two step.  Is it any wonder people fall down?  I’ve got a great idea.  Let’s find as many things as we can that fat people are bad at and roll them into one sport.  Timing.  Check.  Balance.  Check.  The precision of a fucking ballerina.  Check.  Yep, I’m bad at all those.  Sweet, let’s call it fucking Judo.

Here’s a judo haiku for you:

I’m twirling in air;
gravity seems to hate me.
I just got judoed.

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