I was asked to attend a self-defense class organized and entertained by a former co-worker and a friend, Chantelle, a 19 year old freshman.
I have known Chantelle since I tutored her in high-school, for about five years now.
Chantelle has often described at length about how the most important part of any class is for the students to live vicariously through the teacher.
To meet that goal, I think Chantelle has outdone herself.
Chantelle, tall, blonde, pretty, curvaceous and high-spirited seems like an odd super-hero, but she portrays herself incredibly well.
That is not to say she isn’t talented, but Elle doesn’t have Chantelle’s grace or speed or youthful excitement.
Elle is the anti-thesis of everything in my demeanor, and I suspect Chantelle’s as well.
That being said, I suspect Elle and Chantelle absolutely adore each other, even though Chantelle is too excited to share and Elle is too stubborn to care.
Chantelle embraced me with her offer, and Elle was… well, she simply didn’t mind.
The one thing that sets Chantelle’s self-defense extravaganza apart is that she employs a coterie of men as targets.
I spent hours with Chantelle training and practicing for the next class, mostly on surprisingly warm December weather.
Chantelle doesn’t specify exactly what that meant.
Chantelle correctly points out something self-defense instructors twice her age and infinitely more experienced miss.
“Relax.” You see, you cannot relax if you are scared, but if you have this mental iron curtain that Chantelle is a perfect example of, it comes naturally.
“So what about the humiliation of the men?” I ask, and Chantelle smiles.
Chantelle reminds all her students, most older than her, to enroll in such classes.
As Chantelle says, they are the expendable bodies in the grand scheme of the lives of all the girls that come see her, and that is that.
Often, Chantelle, and even more often, Elle, used to bring over a man that already took some punishment, and deposit him right in front of me.
This brainchild of Chantelle, was anything but normal.
Even if the protection dulled the pain somewhat, even if these men, helping Chantelle teach eager young girls, are not the enemy, it felt good.
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