Confessions of a Reformed Cheerleader (Chapter One)

[b]Confessions of a Reformed Cheerleader[/b]
By Jonica

[u][b]Prologue[/b][/u]

[i]We came to win
oh yea thats right
Were #1
Purple Gold and White
Tigers Live on top
were a team
that Cant be stopped!!![/i]

Hi!  My name is Joni.  If you haven’t guessed yet, I used to be a cheerleader.  Of course I never cheered for LSU, but THAT was my dream!  I did make it to college and I did cheer, but that is for later in the story!  This tale is about how I became a top flight wrestler in a little organization full of top flight wrestlers!  I might have been loved.  I might have been hated.  But one thing for sure…I left an impression! 

Are you wondering why I use so many exclamation points?!?!  Because I’m a cheerleader, silly!  Or I used to be….

As with any story there has to be a starting point.  Of course this one does.  It all started my senior year in high school.  I had been cheering for almost eight years by this time, and truth be told I didn’t know much else.  I was so focused on cheering the teams on to victory, I forgot about all that studying and book learning I was supposed to be doing to.  I was one of those lucky few who got to be a senior twice!  You know what that means…right?!?!  Of course you do! 

TWO PROMS!!!! 

Well, needless to say, mommy and daddy weren’t very happy about my progress in school, but I did get an extra year to hone my cheerleading.  After working with a tutor three hours following each cheer practice, I managed to work my way up to a 2.1 grade point average (amazing, right?!?!  I know!!!), and they let me graduate!  From there I went on to (unfortunately not LSU) Southeast Iberia Parish Community College, where I was all conference cheer squad each year for four years in a row!

[i]The ‘biters are the best,
So much better than the rest,
Scoring, tackling passing as well,
We’re the best cant you tell?!?![/i]

SIPCC even let me graduate with an associate’s degree in home economics after those four years.  The cheer coach hated to see me go, but alas, I did.  Then it was into the real world.  I would say my parents were proud, but I can’t find them.  Last I heard…the day I started SIPCC…they were sailing around the world with all the money from my LSU trust fund (Thank goodness for federal financial aid!).  I did get a post card from the Palau Islands the Christmas of my second sophomore year!

Anywho…sorry, got sidetracked…this is the story of how I became a wrestler!  After college, I couldn’t find a job.  I mean….who wouldn’t want to hire a former cheerleader with an AS degree in Home Ec?  I know, right?!?!  But that was the problem.  There wasn’t anything available.  I looked and I searched, but nothing came open.  One day I sat down on a park bench and cried.  The next thing I know, this kind man named Tony sat next to me and tried to cheer me up.  He had a weird accent…kind of hillbilly-ish, but with a nasally Yankee twang.  Does that make sense?  To my surprise, he put his hand on my thigh and offered me a job!  I didn’t know at the time what the job was, but how bad could it be?  I mean….he made me feel so good about myself!  He told me how pretty I am…how I could be making plenty of money to buy shoes and clothes and tv’s and an iPad and maybe even a Mustang!  OMG!  A MUSTANG!  Can’t you just see me driving a new Mustang?!?! 

O!

M!

G!

OMG!!!

Tony made me feel so good about myself.  He caressed my thigh until I stopped crying and offered to give me a foot massage!  My feet did hurt.  I had been wearing Western boots without socks all day (I looked great in my halter top and Daisy Dukes!  I really don’t understand why I couldn’t get a job.  Maybe if I had worn my cowgirl hat!  Maybe…), so how could I refuse! 

Tony had an office in the back of this neat place downtown!  He even had a leather sofa in there…next to the hot tub!  There is one thing I never could figure out about his office, though.  He had one big shiny brass pole holding up the ceiling.  One pole!  Holding up the WHOLE ceiling!  WOW!  That had to be a strong pole!  I would have been mad at my contractor though.  It was right in front of his desk…it had to be a distraction. 

One thing about cheerleaders…former or current…you have to be good dancers.  So for the next four years, I got to dance and cheer more!  Can you believe it?!?!  I go to CHEER more!  Well, it wasn’t the kind of cheering you would see on Saturday night in Death Valley (well…maybe ya could!), but I did get to keep performing.  AND Tony was right!  I made a whole bunch of money!  One night…this little shiny strapless top I was wearing slipped a little….I’ll go ahead and say it…I accidentally flashed the crowd!  It was embarrassing, at first, but these guys started pelting me with money!  I thought it was trash, but it turns out they were throwing wadded up balls of money at me!  Mostly one dollar bills…there were a few fives and a couple tens and twenties in there…but even those add up after awhile!  The next few nights I experimented (just like I learned to do in baking class!!) a little.  I’d let my top slip and see if they reacted the same way!  They did!!  Then….OMG!!!…one night it slipped all the way to the stage!  Tony had to send in security because all these guys rushed the stage wanting to hand me money!  I didn’t protest, but it did kinda scare me when one guy pulled off my four-inch heel and took off running with it!

[i]Open the barn doors who do you hear!
 Elvis Presley doing a cheer
 Firecracker firecracker boom boom boom
 Firecracker firecracker boom boom boom
 The boys got the muscle
 The couches got the brains
 The cheerleaders got the sprit
 That’s why we won the game!!!
[/i]
After the first year or so, I got pretty comfortable dancing for money.  I guess I grew up a little and figured out what it was all about.  After the second year, I started getting bored with it.  After the third, I began wanting to settle down.  Then…after the fourth…I wanted something new.  Tony was right.  I made tons of money…more than many lawyers in town.  Maybe more than a lot of doctors, but now I saw that look in those men’s eyes when I would take my clothes off.  I knew what I had become.  This cheering wasn’t much fun anymore.  Many mornings I would wake up crying.  I can’t explain why.  I would think of my mommy and daddy…off somewhere sailing the world (I still told myself that…even though a year ago last Christmas I got a letter from some unpronounceable place saying there had been a storm and my parents weren’t coming home).  I kept saying to myself I would get another postcard from some exotic place.  One never came.

I won’t admit to being depressed.  Cheerleaders don’t get the blues.  However, I was in a funk.  Tony still liked to give foot massages, but he ran hot and cold on my feet.  I guess some of the newer performers had cuter toes.  However, he still helped me invest my money, and believe it or not, I had a brand new Mustang!  A convertible yellow one!  A GT too! 

Uh oh…sorry…got sidetracked again…this is about my career as a wrestler.  One night Tony decided to have mud wrestling in his club.  I would say the rest is history, but I am too young for history!  However, I learned I have am what you would call ‘a natural’ at mud wrestling!  Tony called me his little ‘wrestling savant’…whatever that means!  It didn’t matter that I am only 5’2 and only weigh 105 lbs!  I was a vicious lil shit…as one opponent called me after I bit her on the thong!  I graduated from mud wrestling to oil and jello wrestling.  I even took on a few guys and beat a few of them!  My funk was gone, and I began having fun again!!! 

[i]We say hop and you say scotch!!!
HOP……[/i]

After about two years of wrestling on the club circuit I got so good that one night this woman came in to watch me tussle!  Turns out she was a talent scout from a major wrestling production company!  Now, you can say the rest is history!  Tony helped me negotiate…he somehow got a cut…and I was signed as a new talent for the company!  I couldn’t believe how much they told me I could make the first year!  I also didn’t believe how tough it would be, even though they told me up front.  Pro wrestling is faked, I kept telling myself.  Mud and oil wrestling is real….or more so than the stuff you see on television and Youtube.  How tough could this stuff me?  I took some lessons from a friend of Tony’s, and after two months of training, I was ready for my debut. 

Here is where the story really begins.

[u][b]Chapter One [/b][/u]

“Joni, this isn’t the fake stuff you are used to.”  The woman, who recruited me, says in a concerned tone.  “You could get hurt.  Are you sure you are ready for this?”

Her name is Lorie.  She is in her early 40s, and she used to be a wrestler.  She won’t tell me why she retired.  When I ask she smiles and limps away.  I don’t understand it. 

“Joni, have you ever seen one of these matches?”  Tony interjects.  “I’ve been trying to get you to watch, but you are more interesting in Scooby Doo.”  Lorie looks aghast at this realization, but I smile and say, “Of course I have!”  (Of course I have been watching Scooby Doo), but I am not worried.  I have been winning messy wresting matches for so long, I am pretty sure I know how to handle myself.  Plus I have been training so hard!  I am in good shape, plus I used to be a cheerleader!  Plus I like the word ‘plus.’  That has to be a plus. 

“Joni, this is different than anything you have ever done.  Please take it seriously.”  Lorie says then limps from the room with a concerned look on her face, but I am not scared.  I am ready.  Tony and I spend the next few minutes sitting in silence….me contemplating what life would be like with Freddy as a life partner…tooling all over the place in the Mystery Machine solving ghost mysteries and smoking weed….while Tony massages my feet.  Suddenly there is a knock on the door and an announcement, “Five minutes.”

Tony helps me with my socks and cute lil white boots with purple and gold laces…what else would you expect.  I look in the mirror, and I have to smile!  Not much has changed!  I am in as good of shape today as I was when I was cheering.  I look spectacular in my gold sports bra…with cute lil tiger paw prints on the cups…and purple bikini cut boy shorts!  My long light brown hair pulled back in a tight braid.  This is gonna be fun, I tell myself. 

Those five minutes seem to drag on and on, so in the mean time I warm up by stretching and jogging in place.  I try some shadow boxing but I accidentally punch the wall.  I will never make it as a boxer…I lament while shaking my hand.  Then there is another knock on the door and Lorie’s voice says, “It’s time.”  We open the door and walk toward the small, but well-lit and boisterous arena.  As I step through the curtains, the crowd erupts in cheers, and for the first time, I realize I am so nervous even my armpits are soaking wet.  I never got this anxious before getting in an oil pit. 

I try to ignore the crowd…they hurl catcalls and insults that would make a sailor blush…no…these would make sailors beat the hell outta them in my club!  The service boys actually had some manners.  Focusing on the ring doesn’t help my sudden case of the nerves.  This isn’t a stage with a dancing pole on it…this is a four-sided ring where I will be locked in mortal combat with another woman.  Well…being a little melodramatic here…not ‘mortal’ combat, but you know what I mean!

The aisle seems to go on forever, but we do eventually get to the ring.  I look around like I am lost, and Lorie has to give me a little shove to nudge me up the steps.  I am too short to climb between the top and middle ropes, so I stoop and slip between the middle and bottom ones.  The mat feels squishy under my boots, and it takes me a moment to get used to the bouncy spring underneath, but I eventually figure it out.  I am not alone in the ring either.  There are two guys there.  One is wearing a tuxedo…holding a microphone, and the other a black and white striped shirt with black pants.  He looks official…for some reason.  Anywho, while I am trying to figure out their purpose, this guy in the tux starts yelling into his mic. 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!  TONIGHT WE ARE WITNESSING A DEBUT!  HAILING FROM THE GREAT STATE OF LOUISIANA….STANDING AND WEIGHING IN AT A COMPACT 5’2 AND 105 LBS….LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT IS MY DISTINCT PLEASURE TO INTRODUCE TO YOU…THE NEWEST PHENOMENON….THE CAJUN PRINCESS…..JONI!!!”

Wtf?  Princess?  No one has called me ‘princess’ since my father.  He needs to tone it back a little.  Before I can protest, though, the Canadian National Anthem suddenly echoes around the small arena and the crowd really erupts in jeers and screams. 

“NOW LADIES AND GENTLEMENT, JONI’S OPPONENT FOR THE NIGHT IS NO STRANGER TO THIS RING.  AS A MATTER OF FACT…YOU REMEMBER LAST WEEK SHE LOST HER PAPERWEIGHT TITLE ON THESE VERY MATS!  ALL THE WAY FROM CANADA….IT IS MY PLEASURE TO INTRODUCE THE CANADIAN CRIPPLER…..MARIE….BEEEEEEE!!!!”

Wtf is a Marie B?  All I can see is a blonde ponytail.  Is she on her knees?  Paperweight champion?  Wtf is that?!?!

Then I see why.

She walks up the steps.  I almost walk across the ring to offer her another step stool.  Very rarely am I the tallest person in the mud pit.  I am shocked when I see I am the tallest person in a sports bra and boy shorts in this ring.  It’s true.  I am.  Marie B should probably change her name to MaWEE Bee.  She is tiny.  She might be 4’9.  Might be.  She can’t weight more than 95 lbs.  100 lbs, if she ate a hotdog.  As a matter of fact, I turn to Tony and almost begin to tell him to run to Little Caesar’s, but Lorie says something about Marie being ‘a former gymnast.’  I turn to look at her and find a pair of the coldest, icy blue eyes I have ever seen locked on me!

Mawee Bee might be small, but she can put on a ‘Grrr’ look like no other!  Her red sports bra and matching boy shorts with lil while maple leaves outfit seems a little intimidating too, but I am sure it’s a gimmick.  Maybe I should have worn a skull and crossbones or something…

The guy in the black and white shirt finally moves from his corner and walks up to me.  I almost slug him when he puts his hands on my waist, but then I realize he his just looking for weapons.  That’s funny because I won’t need one against the midget.  Finally, he does the same thing to Mawee, but she does slap his hands away.  I almost laugh when he threatens to disqualify her.  If I get this win that easily then Tony and I can go get that Little Caesar’s I am suddenly craving.

The guy in the black and white shirt is introduced as ‘the referee,’ and I blush when I realize they had those in almost every sport I cheered for over the years.  I guess I have seen those black and white shirts before.  He makes a motion with his arm and a loud “DONG!!” resonates around the small arena.  I stand stock-still.  We never started a mud wrestling match this way.  I look down at Tony and Lorie.  Lorie looks concerned and Tony is pointing wildly at something in the ring!  I guess maybe I should pay attention, but between my ADD and the vibrating of the ring, I can’t focus.  Then it occurs to me….THE DAMN RING IS VIBRATING!!

I look up and see a flash of bare tummy and red shorts just as Mawee’s tiny body slams across mine.  I fall back into my corner with her across my chest.  The wind leaves my lungs with a whoosh from the impact with her tiny body and the turnbuckles slamming into my back!

Dropping to my knees as my blonde opponent rolls away, I drop to all fours and wonder what the hell just happen.  I don’t get much time to ponder it, though.  A tiny boot slams into the side of my head with such force that it knocks me through the ropes onto the ring apron.  Now on my back, I roll down to the arena floor and shake my head.  Fog and cobwebs cloud my vision and I try to clear it as quickly as I can, but again, Mawee has other plans. 

I didn’t even realize she got out of the ring until she dropkicks me from behind!  I am kinda short too.  The kick slams me throat first into the ring apron.  Maybe I shoulda listened to Lorie when she said this isn’t like mud wrestling!  It really isn’t!

I fall onto my back. The dirty arena floor is sticky with spilled soft drinks, beer, and popcorn, but I don’t have to worry about it long.  A tug of my hair tells me Marie hasn’t left.  A quick tug…a thrust…a roll…and I am back in the ring, rolling to a stop in the middle.  What was it that announcer guy said?  She lost her title?  Oh shit!  She was a champion?  Key words being ‘champion’ and most importantly ‘WAS!’ 

OH SHIT!!!

Just my luck.  She’s pissed off.

On my back with the big overhead light beating down on me, I suddenly see the tiny blonde hovering over me.  Even through the lights I can see those angry, ice blue eyes.  I also see her lift her foot and stomp down at my forehead. 

Over the years, I have been called a lot of things:  Silly, goofy, ignorant, dumb, stupid, arrogant, twit, and other things I can’t mention here, but two things I am not:  a fool nor a coward.  Tony says I would charge headfirst into a brick wall.  He also says he would feel sorry for the wall if I did. 

I don’t plan on laying here and letting this Canadian midget kick my brains out.  I suddenly grab her foot with both hands and fold my knees upwards.  Pushing with my arms, I roll onto my side and kick out with both of my feet at her balancing leg.  I think this whole motion took her by surprise.  She cursed me in two different languages as she fell off balance and crashed to the mat.

Since we have established I am no fool, I keep my hands gripped on her foot and continue rolling to my knees.  I pull her knee toward her chest and in a flash I try to pin her body under mine.  Now this is an old mud-wrestling trick, and it usually works!  I fall across her chest with her leg pinned between us.  My hands go to her shoulders.  The referee guy drops to his knee and slaps the mat once…twice…but then Marie shoves with her trapped leg…showing a little strength and stamina…and rolls me onto my side.  I roll to the ropes and grab the bottom one to pull myself up.  Just as I get to my feet, Mawee is already running at me.

Fortunately, I have seen this before.  As she leaves her feet for the cross body splash, I drop to my knees and she sails over my head into the ropes.  She again curses me in two languages, but I am already getting to my feet.  The little gymnast shows her flexibility by grabbing the middle rope and pulling herself up.

Of the things I have been called over the years, the one that is closest to the truth is probably, ‘bitch.’  I am tired of being this little twerp’s (a name usually reserved for me) personal piñata.  As she pulls herself up, I raise my right foot and kick her between the shoulder blades as hard as I can.  She drops to the floor on her chest and rolls from side to side…her right arm behind her back trying to soothe the pain.

It’s then that I become aware of the crowd.  They are cheering for me!  Fuck!  I am leading cheers again!  This shit is fun!


[i]Get me a B!
Give me a E!
Give me a S
Give me a T
What does that spell?
BEST!
We are the best!
The other team thinks well give them a rest![/i]

Cheerleaders are performers…athletes and performers.  We love to have fun!  We are there for the purpose of making sure everyone is having fun!  We play to the crowd.  That is exactly what I do here!  I hop around and prance.  Dancing like I did on the stage.  Too bad there isn’t a pole for me to use.  I toss my head back and thrust my hips forward.  I close my eyes then the crowd goes insane as I do two back handsprings across the ring!

Everyone but Tony, that is.

He is busy looking worried and pointing at something behind me.  Wtf?  I’m winning Tony!  I smile sweetly, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.  Wtf? I think again.  Then it occurs to me the crowd isn’t cheering anymore.

I drop to my knees as sharp pain shoots through my kidneys…up my spine…to the top of my head.  Then I fall forward onto my face.  Marie’s tiny body falls across my slightly larger one and my left arm suddenly goes numb after she clamps her gymnast’s thighs around it.  Her hands reach around my face…still stunned from the stomp to the kidney’s, I can’t offer much resistance.  She tightens the move by leaning back slightly…pulling my head, then neck, and finally my chest and shoulders off the mat Fiery pain wrenches through my cheek, neck, shoulders, and trapped arm.  I’ve seen this hold before.  Y instructor showed me the cross-face crippler.  It hurts worse now. 

I close my eyes and try to focus on everything but the pain.  I feel her hands slip a little and stop when they get to my nose.  She readjusts them so that the back of her hand and her knuckles are against my lips.  I try to squeal, but she pulls harder and shuts off the sound in my throat.  My tiny boots pound the mat relentlessly!  I can’t use my free arm because moving it would give her even more leverage.  I am trapped…I don’t know a way out of this.  Maybe I should have paid more attention in wrestling lessons. 

“Cajun princess?  More like Louisiana trailer trash.”  For the first time all match, Marie starts speaks (well…except for cursing me in two languages).  “I am going to make you wish you were still swimming in the bayou, bitch.”  I almost tearfully tell her that I really wish I was still swimming in the bayou right now…anything but this…but suddenly my face slams against the mat, and 95 lbs of weight get off me.

Did I submit? 

I don’t think I did.  Did I?

Marie answers that question for me.  Her hand grabs my hair…even with the referee dude telling her to let it go…and she pulls me to my knees.  Then she makes me get to my feet.  Before I can take a step, her tiny fist slams into my tummy so hard that I double over.

“Ommmmppppphhhhhh!!!” I grunt and almost go to my knees, but her hands roughly pull me back up.  I won’t lie.  My back is still on fire from the cross-face crippler.  She had me beat.  I think she knows it too.  Maybe I can make something out of this mess.

Just as that thought crosses my mind, she whips me into the corner and I crash into the turnbuckles with a thud.

“Ohhhhh….” I moan pitifully and reach for the top ropes to pull myself up.  I need to think.  I also need to do it quickly because she is running at me from the far corner.  She leaves her feet once again to crush me in the corner with what will almost certainly be the final blow of the match.  There is no way I can come back if that lands.  So I do the one thing I feel will work (besides running and crying, that is).  I lift my foot straight out in front of me and let her run cheek first into it. 

The only person more shocked in the entire arena is me!  Even I can’t believe that actually worked!  Marie falls onto her back and lays still.  I mean it.  She does not move.  Her eyes don’t even flutter. 

[i]Great job!
Super well done!
Come on ‘biters!
Let’s score another one!
[/i]
I don’t plan on making the same mistake twice.  My back can’t take another cross-face crippler.  I use the ropes like a ladder and climb to the second rope.  The crowd suddenly erupts again when they realize the Canadian Crippler is about to lose to a rookie in her debut!  However, I am still a cheerleader and I can’t resist raising my hands over my head and doing a victory pose!  Cheerleaders are also attention whores!  I flex my body and squat down.  With every ounce of energy I can find, I explode upward and jump off the middle rope.  My body flashes through the air as I reach the summit and start the descent.  Stretching all 5’2” of my body to crash down on the smaller girl, I drop like a rock….a smile crossing my lips as I fall.  That smile grows even wider as I think of my first victory celebration.  Then….

“UMMMPPPPHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Flashes erupt in front of my eyes and my spine feels like it’s about to pop through my back.  I look down and see I am still about three feet off the mat but I am still speared by Marie’s tiny feet and gymnast legs.  Then I topple to the mat, curled in a ball, holding my belly.  I don’t get much of a respite, however, when Marie sinks her tiny fingers into my hair and pulls me to my feet again.  Gasping for air, sweat runs down my body.  My gold sports bra soaked and clinging tightly to my body.  I feel the cool air when she whips me into off the ropes.  I bounce and recoil back across the ring.  Marie does the same thing, but from the opposite side.  She ducks under my arm as I desperately try a clothesline, then blade my body to fall against the ropes on the other side.  I recoil off and see the blonde come off the far side.  This time she doesn’t pass me.  She actually grabs for my head as she passes, hooks her arm around my throat, and in one of the most amazing moves I have ever seen, she twists and drops onto her feet behind me.  My body is now bent backwards at a nearly 90-degree angle.  She lifts her knee into the middle of my back twice, knocking the wind out of me and forcing me off balance even more.  She follows that by dropping to her butt and slamming the back of my head and shoulders off the mat with such force I bounce.  The blow nearly knocks me unconscious.

It doesn’t take Marie much effort to pull me up this time.  I sway and rock in a nearly black fog when as she pushes me back first into the corner.  I offer no resistance when she hooks my arms over the top rope to hold me up.  I vaguely remember her strolling to the far corner and laughing at me.  I see her body flash across the ring at a dead run…do a cartwheel, and catch my head between her thighs…showing her gymnast’s grace.  I remember the sensation of being pulled forward, and I remember a slap of flesh when my back hits the mat.  After that I remember nothing…..

…..nothing at all until I open my eyes and see that referee dude, Tony, and Lorie standing over me.  I blink my eyes a few times and realize I am still in the ring!

“Oh crap!  She’s awake!  Are you okay?!?!”

I want to scream, ‘of course I am not okay!  I just lost to a fucking hobbit!’  But I hold my tongue.  Only because I can’t talk at the moment.  After a little while, I do get to my feet.  They have to catch me to keep me from falling.  I don’t remember the walk from the ring to locker room.

“Joni.  The crowd loved you.  You have to wrestle again!”

I stare blankly at Lorie as she talks.

“You almost won.  If you hadn’t celebrated early, you would have.”

Oddly, I can’t agree right now.

“With some training you can be great.  Watch this!”

Lorie presses a button on her laptop and up pops a recorded interview with Marie.  This had to be right after our match.  The interviewer is going on and on about how tough it was for Marie and how shocked a rookie pushed a wily veteran to the limit.  Marie, however, isn’t in a mood to talk about me in good terms though. 

“Fuck her….white trash bitch better never get in the ring with me again!….”fucking kill her next time….”

She even pulls the mic out of the interviewer’s hand and tosses it on the floor.  She looks into the camera and says some rather unsavory things that I am pretty sure are directed at me.  After that she storms off.

“Joni.  We need some fresh blood around here.  The promotion is getting stale.  I’m telling you…the crowd loved you….you could truly be a superstar….”

Lorie’s voice trails off into my thoughts.  The crowd did seem to like me.  The pay is awesome.  The word ‘superstar’ fills me mind.

[i]To The G!
   To The O!
   Yell Go, Go![/i]