Rocky is my favorite movie series of all time. Sometimes I wonder if I should take up boxing (I probably will at some point). I was around 12 years old when one of my brothers asked me if I knew how to punch. I said "no" in anticipation of an educational moment with him. He said, "The first thing and the most important thing is to protect yourself first. Keep your fists up like this," he took my wrists and pulled them up in the air so my forearms were blocking my face. 
"Good. Now you always want to keep your fists up until it's time to make your move and then SWING!" He paused, "Ok, now try to punch me."Ok, lets stop here for a moment. My 15 year old brother just invited me to hit him, and in the face nonetheless. I felt like the heavens had parted and I was given an invitation to the event of a lifetime.
I couldn't wait to tell mom that my brother gave his approval for me to hit him. Before I continue this story, I must note that I've since had several conversations with this brother and we do not agree, whatsoever, on the outcome of this story. However I believe mine to be true for the very fact that I lead a very successful (not organized) high-school boxing career. I never lost a fight. (Kinda not proud of that fact, but kind of am.)
So there we are, my older brother and me standing in the kitchen. This was my time to shine.
Hop. Hop. Duck. Hop. Shuffle. Bob. Hop.
My brother drops his arms for a moment. I drop my right hand. Pull back. Throw.... and CONNECT.
Oh crap, did I just hit my brother?! VICTORY! Victory is mine!
And then if I wasn't victorious enough, I would be soon. After seeing the look on my brother's face and the thought of My little sister just punched me in the face was realized, I ran. I ran as if I were in hot pursuit of another gold medal victory. I am certain that I ran faster than the 4-minute mile in that moment.
Not once did I ever ask my brother for another educational moment again.
I love that story for several reasons. The obvious being that I got to hit my brother in the face. The second reason is because I received a good dose of needed confidence. I realized I was capable of outsmarting my brother and I could connect a powerful punch. The last thing I gleaned from that day was that I was a fighter, and I liked it. I rose to the challenge and I delivered. I surprised my brother, which was also rewarding, but I think I impressed him too.
I have always been a fighter. I stand up for others and I definitely stand up for myself. If we only have one life, why waste our time repeatedly getting hit? Why take the punches and blows? Why not fight back? Or better yet, you call the shots, you pick the fights, and make sure they are fights worth fighting for.
A top boxer isn't just suddenly the best one day. Muhammed put in the time, he practiced, trained, and took hits nobody else wanted to take. When a fighter repeats that sequence, he gets to the level where he's better than most, and that is when you get to pick the fights.
This is all a metaphor for something, probably to stand up for what you believe in. Maybe your morals at work. Perhaps its your salary (I've fought for that before. It's bloody, but it sure as hell is worth it for the experience of embracing your own value.) Maybe its for a cause you believe in. Shit, maybe its even a fight with the numbskull at the bank to get one of those fucking fees reversed. Whatever the case is, we all know in our gut when its time to fight. There's that boiling-in-the-gut feel, the heat flare in the knuckles, and the involuntary head tilt because suddenly your neck has full control of your posture.
I will leave you with one of my favorite scenes from the entire Rocky Balboa series.
Go out with a fight today. It's training day.
Oh I almost forgot, I'm selling you stuff. Buy the necklace here.
All fists in,
Sarah
