Toughness

I don't consider myself to be very tough, either physically or mentally. At any point while walking down the street I alternate between knowing I could beat the living shit out of everybody, and thinking that a Girl Scout could walk up and slap me around and make me cry in front of whomever I have a crush on at the time.

But there HAVE been instances where I've proven myself to be tough. I got through boot camp, for instance. Also, after Hell Week at the end of pledging I had to receive my paddling completely sober due to a severe illness. Pledge brother after pledge brother went ahead of me, all being somewhat to quite drunk after the night's "festivities." The brothers beat the shit out of their asses, and dude after dude squealed like a pig, screaming and yelling and crying. I was appalled and I decided fuck that, I ain't doing that shit. I was last, and when my turn came I bent over, grabbed the wall, and took the first few whacks in stone silence. Didn't peep a scream, didn't whine, didn't utter shit. Which, of course, drove them crazy and made them try and wail even harder on me, but I gave them no satisfaction of pain, and was quite pleased with myself. My ass was the color of a melted pack of Crayolas for a month, but fuck 'em.

Tho the worst was a coupla years ago at a hospital. I had an ingrown toenail that was infected, and one night I dropped a bass amp on it and it exploded; it looked like a clown shoe had thrown up. Eventually 2 days later I go to the hospital, where I'm left to sit for hours as doctors walked back in forth - when you're in an emergency room, the last thing you wanna hear from doctors is them calling OTHER doctors over "You gotta see this!!"

Anyway, finally my doctor shows up and she's like well, the toe is broken in ____ places, and this toenail has to come out. Aight, whatevs. Then she says she has to take it out right now, and she can't give me any anesthesia cause it's too infected. Hmm, I thought. This will be interesting. She informs me that as she starts cutting, I should just start screaming; it would distract me, and should only take 4-6 minutes or so. I don't know why I didn't take her advice - the other patients obviously were complete strangers, and half of them seemed to be there for no other reason than being CRAZY. But I didn't yell, and she started cutting. Jesus christ. I gripped the sides of my chair so hard I thought either the chair or my hands might turn to powder, and I bit down on my teeth like I was trying to break the record for biting down on my teeth. It's the only time I've experienced cold sheets of sweat rolling down my face. My entire head was clenched and shaking. After what seemed like an eternity plus a viewing of The Shawshank Redemption, she said "okay, now it's REALLY gonna hurt." Oh, god...but I didn't say a word, I looked right at it, I fucking toughed it out.

So it's POSSIBLE for me to be tough, which is comforting. Tho I wouldn't bet on it on a daily basis. Particularly during cookie-selling season, of course.