DOS & DON'TS

This girl’s real actual name is Angel Butts. Comments/Enlarge | See all

The only bad part of capturing a sleepy-eyed supertigress like this in the wild is trying to think up some bullshit to write about her shirt. Comments/Enlarge | See all

		UNDERCOVER FOR A DAY Life in the CID

		JUNKIE MERRY-GO-ROUND If You Want to Get High, Go to Prison

		STUFF LIKE THAT Good Touch, Bad Touch

		PRANCEHALL I was walking down the street the other d...

IN THE MAGAZINE

GIRLS ON THE MAT - PART 1

With the Top-Ranked Female Heavyweight

I’m really into boxing lately. I love watching it, reading about it, and attempting to learn how to do it. The one thing I haven’t done is actually fight, because I am afraid—not of black eyes and fat lips, but of being fed through a tube and crapping in a bag. Which is why, when my trainer told me it was time for me to actually fight, I challenged the top-ranked heavyweight boxer in the world. Her name’s Martha Salazar, and we had a three-round match. Here are the pictures.

STORY BY MORGAN MURPHY
PHOTOS BY DAN MONICK
STYLING BY IVY JARRIN


We fought at the Broadway Boxing Gym, this cinematically run-down place in South Central Los Angeles. On the way there my trainer, who has one eye permanently shut from getting punched in the face so much, pointed out the place under the freeway where he used to sleep. (By the way, this is the only photo where I look like I have a chance in hell.)		This is Martha Salazar. She only started boxing in 2000, but when she hits her hardest, she can knock out a male boxer—even a Samoan. That, at least, is what her trainer said. Why he singled out Samoans, I don’t know. In addition to being fucking huge, she is also really, really fast. They call her “The Shadow.”



I call her “The Woman Who Gave Me a Free Abortion.”		This is my trainer “Canada.” It was his idea to box in dresses.


This is Danovis Pooler, Martha’s trainer. He’s a boxer too, and Martha can and does kick his ass.		Here we go...


Before we started, Martha’s trainer was pumping her up, whispering to her in low tones and generally being an exceptionally cool and relaxing person. Canada has his own way. He told me some story about a car fire and when the bell dinged, he said, “You’re a fucking idiot.”		With that in mind, I got punched really hard in the face. (That’s Steve Jenkins, the ref in the background there. Canada made him iron his shirt.)


Even though I expected to lose, it was pretty weird getting pummeled this way. I was totally disoriented and making these weird breathy panting sounds. (Look, she’s trying not to laugh in this one. [Really.])		Keeping my hands down and not protecting myself at all is a tactic I learned from babies. My hair was in my face so I couldn’t see what was going on most of the time. I could still keep track of what was happening though: I got punched in the face a lot.