I seem to be making a habit of this you know. Splitting gi’s (or dogis if you prefer) that is.
The latest ripped white training pants to add itself to my notorious list of shredded pants, joined the ranks at Monday night’s training session, where Gerhard and myself were going through the steps for Shisome, the newly renamed first kata under the Funakoshi International style, under the watchful eye of sensei Birgitt.
As I spun around from a nice and relaxed kamae stance into a more bowlegged back stance towards the end of the kata, there was the usual loud ripping noise I’ve become rather accustomed to, prompting an exclamation from sensei as to whose poor knees were giving out now. Shamefully I replied that for a change it wasn’t a body part disagreeing with the sudden movement, but rather my trusty old pants who had now had enough of the incessant abuse I dish out to it every Monday and Wednesday evening.
Come to think of it, it had tried to commit seppuku once before, but my mom jumped to the rescue with needle and thread. This time however there is no saving it, as it has now well and truly committed ritual suicide. (Though it will have to do for tonight’s training over a very white underpants until I can get to the shops on Saturday to try and find a replacement!)
Sigh, me and my ripped pants.
It’s becoming a signature thing I tell you! ;)