#admittedly my love of the series has waned a lot over the years but damn

[wurm-food]

I’m very unwell after watching the aot finale 😭

[splashmommy]

Ronda Helped Me

Guys, I just ran two miles in the freezing fucking cold. Full disclosure, I speed walked them. Also it was only one mile, I just checked my pedometer because I have major OCD and can’t stand being inaccurate. So here’s the accurate story, I spent the last three solid hours of this afternoon laying on my couch eating pretzels, chugging coffee, and slowly crawling to the end of Christine (a Stephen King book which I’m ashamed to admit has taken me almost two months to finish. Sorry, there was just a lot of football and mechanics to push through in the beginning before the love triangle kicked in). Believe you me, I did not want to get off that couch. I could have continued sitting there in my five year old christmas jammy pants for, at the very least, another eight hours, and I would have, had it not been for Ronda Rousey.

Y’all. I watched wrestling again last night for the first time in a long time. Let me set the scene for you. I had just gotten home from a long day of work and I wanted nothing more than to microwave a Kashi meal and dive deep into The Tank (this is what I call Shark Tank) to see what disparaging things Mr. Wonderful had to say about Barbara or the retail industry as a whole while I dug deeply into some Chimichurri Quinoa. I had yet to change and unwind fully from my work day when my life partner, Craig, dropped the bomb. He told me that the WWE Royal Rumble pay per view that had been blaring from the living room was about to close out with a Women’s Main Event Royal Rumble. Wait, hold the fuck on, you mean the ladies are closing the show? HEADLINING AN EVENT?!

Then he told me that there were rumors that Ronda Rousey might surprise debut during the match.

Fuck. And yes.

So I sat my ass down, right there, on our grey cat scratched couch and proceeded to fall deep, deep into the world of, what we now call the WWE Women’s Division. Now full disclosure again on me here, I’m not what you would call a “lifelong wrestling fan”. I have dipped my toe in and out of the ring over the last decade since falling in love with a massive self-proclaimed monday night rasslin’ nut (Craig’s still got it!). I’ve been to Monday Night Raw two or three times. I attended Wrestlemania in Atlanta in 2011 (although honestly I slept through some of it because, again full disclosure, it was kind of a weird time for me). My husband and I once yelled “BAZINGA!” while waving a hot yellow hand made sign that said “BAZINGA!” at Daniel Bryan while we jumped up and down over a fence in the backlot of a Raleigh arena. He was getting inside his truck to leave, he did a little chuckle and an eye roll when he saw us before pulling out of the parking lot. It was pretty neat. We have since referred to this moment as “The time we bazinga’d Daniel Bryan.” We are still very proud. 

Now that I think of it, there was also this brief period in the late nineties where I got really into The Wolf Pack. I had a crush on a new kid in my sixth grade class at church named Jonathan who talked a lot about the NWO. I tentatively watched a couple of matches with my big bro, initially just so I could understand my crush a little better and have something in common to talk about if I ever got the courage to speak to him. I kept watching it after I was over him though, because there was something silly and really cathartic that I liked about watching magnetic people beating the fake crap out of eachother. I also liked recreating the moves on my older brother.

At this point I feel like I need to mention that the WWF Superstars performance of “If You Only Knew” from the 1987 Slammy Awards is my favorite thing on the internet. I literally dare everyone to try to watch it without getting up off the couch to side step shuffle.

So you could say I’m a casual, medium-rare-to-medium wrestling fan. My interest has waned in the past due to personal issues I have with bad storylines, uninteresting characters, negative stereotypes, and just the over-all regressive awfulness that’s been associated with the empire Vince McMahon built. However as I’m not an expert in the field, I’m going to kick my soapbox to the side and let you guys form your own opinions of the franchise/network that is Wrestling Entertainment. I’m just here to say that once that Royal Rumble match started, my ass was glued to that couch for fifty-seven solid minutes. Guys, I had to pee. I wanted that hot Kashi when I sat down but once the match set in and that buzzer started sounding I was hooked like an addict. 

It was more than just the lure of landing a possible crossover Superstar like Ronda Rousey, although yes that was a major pull. The thing that had me transfixed was the women duking it out on screen. They looked real. There was diversity in their style, shapes, sizes, personalities, presence, moves, motivation, and attitudes. They were kicking eachothers asses, but that wasn’t the thing that was surprising me. What really got me giddy was hearing the announcers commenting on their individual training, hobbies, stats, and accomplishments as wrestlers and people. It felt like I was watching the cast of GLOW acting out a live in ring performance, as if the Royal Rumble had somehow morphed into a real life extension of my favorite Netflix show. Y’all before I get on my feminist soapbox here, which yes admittedly I’m already standing on, can I just say one word that might make everyone understand where I’m coming from? Here goes,

Divas.

Jesus, without going into the full history let me just say that the WWE’s decision to evolve what was referred to as the Divas Division into the WWE Women’s Championship, thus rebranding “Divas” as “Women Superstars/ Superstars” is phenomenal. I mean, is the term “Superstar” phenomenal? No not really, it’s super corny. But that’s what they call the guys, so at least it’s equal. That’s what I dig. Equality. Equal playing ground for badass, ripped AF, war-painted, teeth baring, rage-fueled, gladiatrices who don’t give a fuck about spray tans. That’s what I mostly saw, and loved on my TV screen two nights ago.

I thought I had had my fill. My just desserts. I was nibbling on a secret stash of maple fudge couch-side at this point to celebrate. I thought it was all over. I got up, went into the kitchen, searched the freezer, only to figure out that I was totally out of Kashi Chimichurri Quinoa (BUMMER), and was about to ransack the cupboards when I heard Craig yell, “ABB GET IN HERE SOMETHING’S HAPPENING!”

So I ran. As I was crossing over from kitchen to living room I heard it. “I don’t give a damn ‘bout my reputation…” I was air guitaring now. “Never been afraid of any deviation” full on running in place. “A girl can do what she wants to do and that’s what I’m gonna do,” at this point I did my famous mid-air spin kick and which shook our living room furniture so hard that Craig yelled at me and told me I needed to calm down. “An’ I don’t give a damn ‘bout my bad reputation!”

No. No. No. No. FUCK ME!

Dude. Y’all. Guys. I LOVE RONDA ROUSEY. I’M IN LOVE WITH RONDA ROUSEY AND I DON’T CARE WHO KNOWS IT.

Seriously though folks, I nearly collapsed from exhaustion after running/dancing/karate-chopping my couch and cats in excitement over this empowering series of events. First off, we have this whimsical beast named Asuka win the whole thing, we all think it’s over, then wham-bam-thank-you-MISTRESS we get a surprise pop-in from the Queen Boss herself, former everything weight champion, Ronda Rousey. I ran in place for the entire segment. I shook the furniture. I ignored Craig’s pleading. Naturally I spent the following morning reading the entire Rousey wikipedia and her full Reddit AMA. Naturally I am obsessed, inspired, and stoked that my interest in a fandom that I’ve been hot and cold is officially rekindled. Oh it’s more than just rekindled- it’s ON FIRE!

I was on the WWE website looking up tour dates first thing this morning. I ordered an officially licensed “Hot Ronda” ladies tee shirt off the WWE website.You can check my search history. Wait. No, don’t check my search history (at least give me like five seconds before you check it). I considered watching The Expendable 3 and Furious 7. Seven. Just to catch a glimpse of my muscle-bound muse. I already mentioned my soap box earlier, so I’m not gonna spend any more time than I need to up here. I do need to say though, that after reading up on Ronda Rousey’s life it’s safe to say that she’s tough as nails and authentic as fuck. She’s lived through shit, pushed past difficulty, and carved a place for herself in the universe with her own two, very powerful hands. She’s also beautiful and I want to smell her hair. In a respectful way.

Thinking about Ronda Rousey, reading about Ronda Rousey, and getting jazzed on life in general as a result is what got my ass up off the couch today. Sometimes I think about the main girl from the third Child’s Play movie doing push ups during that military camp scene when I need yoga motivation, today it was pure Women’s Division. Pure Rousey. I’m glad I got out there and hit the pavement today. I’m glad Ronda’s back and I’m beyond ecstatic to see where this new era of women’s professional wrestling entertainment will lead. Wait, we haven’t even talked about the fact that there’s an actual steampunk women’s wrestler currently on the roster. Her name is Becky Lynch, she travels through time, I just checked. While checking, I noted that the term “diva” was still in use on the official WWE website. Guys, I realize that not everything can or will change all at once. I’m just grateful that we’re moving full speed ahead and with Ronda Rousey on our side.