You're seven years old and you hear the words. "You punch like a girl."
It falls out of Jason's mouth so effortlessly. You cringe, as if that is the worst thing you could have been told.
You are supposed to be strong. You don't want to be weak. And yet, you are there standing with tears in your eyes because you hit like a woman, a girl.
You're 19 and you're at a party.
It's loud, harsh sounds fill the rooms and the walls vibrate.
It smells of every form of alcohol you could imagine.
Many have had to much to drink, and Jason decides to run his fingers down your back.
You turn around and effortlessly punch him in the face.
He looks at you, fear in his eyes, a giant red patch on his left cheek.
"Yea, I do punch like a girl," your voice trailed off as you walked away.