Trash Talking.

My little sister fought in the ring the other week and won her first muaythai fight. I am hugely proud of her. I have a sister who can kick muaythai ass! What did I do? I told my sister she was really bufff and looked like a man. I told her she needed to either get a boob job or start wearing fluffy pink dresses so she could look more 'feminine'. I teased her that the woman she fought looked smaller than she did and was she sure that they were even in the same weight class? I told her the fight was too short because she knocked out the other chick in the first few minutes and so i didnt get a chance to see all the ninja girl moves she's been telling us about for months now.
I can tease her and say all these things to my sister because she's MY little sister. But YOU cant.

My little sister called me up the other day to ask 'what does peva mean in English?' Apparently some witchy bitch on Facebook saw the Youtube of the fight and commented that my sister looked 'PEVA'. Translation - weak, wimpy, dead, lacking life and energy. My little sister was not happy. She wanted to muaythai kick some peva ass.

Im not happy either. In fact, I am raving muaythaikickass mad. How dare that ignorant, jealous, spiteful, witchybitch dare to criticize a woman who had the courage and determination to train and get into the ring to fight? Is it a Samoan thing that we must only ever try to stab other Samoans who dare to dream dreams and work their butts off to realise them? Or is it a witchybitch GIRL thing that we must be petty and spiteful whenever we are confronted with a woman who is skinnier, prettier, stronger, smarter and way more buffed than we could ever hope to be? Has that woman ever been in a fight ring? Ever trained through sickness, upheavals and family members having quadruple bypass surgery? Does that idiot even know the first thing about the ancient art of muaythai? Or anything about living life one adventure to the next? Heck, can she even SPELL 'intrepid'?! I doubt it.

Whatever. I may not have hair or muscles like Lennox Lewis. (Or like my little sister.) But the nasty FaceBook witchybitch better hide if she sees me coming. I have weapons. (wooden spoons. Rocks. Squishy bananas. A sumo wrestler-like slam.) And Im not afraid to use them.

Because nobody is allowed to talk trash about my little sister. Except for me.