1. Having a belly that is yellow or yellowish. Used of certain birds, for example.
2. Slang Cowardly.
Call me old yeller.
I hate contact sports. I suck at contact sports. I am afraid of getting hurt whilst playing any kind of sport. I am a big chicken, a yeller bellied chicken. I played softball in High School and spent the entire time WAY out in left field, deathly afraid of being hit by a flying ball. I am that bad. To add insult to injury, I am totally uncoordinated.
Yeller and uncoordinated.
This past June my husband decided that our kids should participate in our local Tae Kwon Do classes. When we inquired about classes the instructor encouraged "family" participation. This lit a fire under afore mentioned husband's belly. 'Think of the bonding," he said. "Imagine the skills learned," he urged. "Think of the weight you would loose..."
That one did it.
Not once in my entire life have I ever had the thought ' I want to do martial arts'. Never. This is probably in large part due to the fact that I am yeller AND uncoordinated (and fat). Yet, thinking of all the bonding, (shut up!) I tied a white belt around my waist and began my journey toward a new skills filled (shut UP!) martial artist self.
This past Monday evening, I stood in front of a panel of judges and tested for my yellow belt. Despite back pain, nerves, Christmas break (in which I practiced too little and ate too much) and just plain fear of failure, I faced my fears and began a battle I never imagined I would fight.
In order to participate in the testing process, the ATA association decided that students must pass a fitness test. (read: Katie is overweight and old and her back has been bugging her for weeks) This new, (as in, was not the case at my previous testing) fit test required that I execute 8 perfect push-ups and 20 sit-ups in the space of a minute each. This revelation has made me reconsider my journey on the Tae Kwon Do road. I can kick butt and take names later, but I can't do a push-up to save my life! For two months I have practiced. I have sweat and swore. I have done no where near 8 push-ups.
On Monday evening though, I kicked butt. Not only did I pull off my required 8 perfect push-ups but I churned out 18! I soared through my testing on my utterly exhausted wings. I passed on to the next belt level.
Yellow. How ironic.
To say that my self confidence has been boosted is a blatant understatement. I am totally jazzed! I don't really know what it means to be a yellow belt, in the world of martial arts that is, but for me, it means that I can achieve more than I thought I was able. I can persevere. And, just maybe, I'm not as klutzy or as yeller as I thought.