I can now attest that the experience of grappling with an expert is akin to falling into deep water without knowing how to swim. You will make a furious effort to stay afloat—and you will fail. Once you learn how to swim, however, it becomes difficult to see what the problem is—why can’t a drowning man just relax and tread water? The same inscrutable difference between lethal ignorance and lifesaving knowledge can be found on the mat: To train in BJJ is to continually drown—or, rather, to be drowned, in sudden and ingenious ways—and to be taught, again and again, how to swim.
I have this one term for the kind of woman that my mother raised me to not be. And I call it a do-nothing bitch. A kind of chick that just tries to be pretty and be taken care of by somebody else. That's why I think it's hilarious when people say my body looks masculine or something like that. Listen, just because my body was developed for a purpose other than fucking millionaires, doesn't mean it's masculine. I think it's femininely badass as fuck because there's not a single muscle in my body that isn't for a purpose. Because I'm not a do-nothing bitch.