I Don't Punch

I'm not much of a puncher, I just don't have the upper body strength for that kind of defense.  But somehow in my junior year of high school I punched through a window.

I know, crazy right? Wait til you hear how it happened!

I was inside cleaning, shocker right? And my sister and her friends were getting ready to go to the pool, the boys were outside waiting, impatiently, for the girls to change into swimsuits (Floridian girls and their swimsuits is a whole different post.).

So these impatient high school boys were waiting, and teenage girls being teenage girls had to redo, well, pretty much everything. So the boys decided to annoy me by knocking on the window where I was cleaning.
FUN!! A game. I can play games, I'm a cool big sister like that. So I knock back, why not? (I'm pretty sure you see where this is going.) They knock back a little more... well just more, louder, longer, there. Okay, fine, thats cool.  I knock back. Great all's good. They knock again. It's more, again. So I knock back more, again. Except when I go for my second "knock" my hand goes through the window.  I remember looking down and just thinking "Oh shit. I'm bleeding." Then it hurt.

I'm the daughter of a nurse, I got this.  I checked the wound, pulled out some remaining glass. Then wrapped that hand up with a (clean) dish towel and put a bag of frozen peas on my hand.  Raised my hand above my heart, then called my mom (and cried).

So, that's kind of like punching isn't it?