A little slice of Elle

So you've seen my tweets and my blog which i don't write in.  Tonight though i'll have a little whirl about telling you a few things about me and how i started on this mental journey of being an injury prone, bruised MMA student who writes swear words on her hands and never gives a full face pic.

I have a large family, 4 older brothers and a younger sister, seems reasonable to want to be able to defend yourself when your caught up in Harper family arguments.  In that case i thought MMA training would be pretty awesome to have a go at, you know, being on the defense and learning a few tricks to use.  Self defense and being fit would be just perfect. Therefore much to the dismay of my brothers, i joined their Gym.  This still amuses me.

I'd seen where they train before from competitions so i knew what it would entail.

My MMA Gym:

1 - warehouse space
1 - boxing ring
1- cage
1 - women's toilet without toilet roll.
1 - mens toilet with all the toilet roll, robbing bastards.
No showers
1 - sink (to this day i'm not sure if we are supposed to drink from it)
Wrestling mats (sweaty)
BJJ mats (sweaty)
Punch Bags
Bad language and sweat. (not off me may i add) well maybe the latter.
Staph infections.

So the crown plaza gym got the boot and i joined "MMA"

Before i started there i had a grilling off the family, to be careful and not get hurt.   Sound!! My brothers were pissed off thinking they had to look after me! no need lads! you don't do it at home for fuck sake.  My sister thought i was a dyke! lovely, thank you melody. When you leave the table and you can hear them all whispering "she won't last a minute" "i give her a week" then you know what, it's only going to make me want to succeed more.  So 3 years later and i'm still there.  And i'm not a dyke either.

Goodnight and Godbless
Elle xxxx