Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Pain Can't Hurt Me

Tina-Walker-Too-Much-Tina-Sashmouth
As the behemoth rose from her barstool in the dark, sticky bar in Highland, CA, I realized that I had quite a task on my hands. But I felt no fear. There is no room for fear in a bar fight. Quickly I assessed my surroundings, the dank scent of beer and sweat, the half drunk but intrigued patrons all wearing cowboy boots and Wranglers, the sound of Waylon Jennings that filled the room. Would I choose humor or fists to fight this monster? The reality was I was already in control of the situation. I initiated this fight, I pulled all of the strings to make it happen, and now she was rising up from her comfy seat and cold drink just to swat the pesky annoyance I had become to her.

I had insulted her, left her no choice but to stand up to me. She surveyed the 22 year old, 4'11" of smarmy, feminine bitch that I was and looked somewhat dumbfounded. As I stood before her, shoulders braced, smile across my bright red painted, glossed lips, I stared her down from behind a face of perfect makeup and beautifully lined eyes. She couldn't understand this beauty queen who wanted to start trouble. Little did she know that I was craving the bone jarring moment of her fist in my face almost as much as the bone jarring moment of my fist in hers. I felt no fear.

Just the way the fear only comes once the bike crash is over. That turn I took too deep, that curb I shouldn't have been looking at, that corner I misjudged. Perhaps that split second before the bike and I hit the pavement, but the fear really settles in when I count body parts still attached as I lie in the street.

"Is my head still attached? Yes, because I can feel it starting to hurt. Are both of my legs still here? Both arms, all of my fingers?"

The thoughts process through my brain as I do the "body check" while spitting gravel out of my mouth. I had determined that all of my body parts remained, some by a "site check" and some by a "feel check". I knew the ones I could only see but not feel meant that the pain was coming and it would be bad. Really bad.

Fuck it. I've been hurt worse before.

If she hits me now she can't hurt me. If I hit that street on my bike, it can't hurt me. If you lie to me you can't hurt me. If you leave me now you can't hurt me.

I can't be hurt. Because you can't touch me. She can't touch me. The street can't touch me.

Pain only hurts as deep as you let it sink in. And I've been hurt worse before. Much worse.

So swing Bitch! Go ahead and swing! Because when there is no fear of the pain, it's amazing what one can accomplish. You had better fucking kill me, because I won't quit until you do. Hit me and you buy a fucking hornets nest of trouble. So go ahead, and swing.

This is not a death wish, but a life wish. This is living life unafraid and I'm not going to let fear stand in my way. If you want to dine at the Self Pity Cafe because life is so unfair, count me out. If you want to drink at the I'm A Pussy Bar where your favorite drink is Not Me - I'm Afraid, then I have no time for you. If you want to boot up and ride, kicking that Oogie Boogie Fear off the seat and live the life God intended you to have, then join me.

Until then, I'll be squeezing the throttle back looking for my life, my road, my future. And if I crash a fist into some bar bitch or hit the pavement, well that's the way it goes. You buy the land, you get the Indians.

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About Sash


People call me "Sash" because I'm a former beauty queen in my old home town. My father used to ride in an MC which got me interested in the culture. After my last divorce I said "goodbye" to Susie Homemaker and became the rude biker chick I always felt inside. (Read more...)