I went from a fan in 1999, to a super fan by 2003. My family had grown out of wrestling, but not me. The women I saw when I could see them if not, I went to the go-to women’s wrestling site before diva-dirt; OWOW, Official Women Of Wrestling, I patterned myself after. For those too young for the OWOW day’s.
It broke down news, bios, had photos of the matches ( many of which were plastered to my wall, it was also OWOW that informed me of Chyna’s release and Gail’s signing), and it was the one-stop-shop where you could find all things women’s wrestling. Anyway, in 2003, women’s wrestling was something I became obsessed with. I copied their catchphrases, Lita’s devil horn hand motion, Sable’s grind, Trish’s point, Molly and Sable’s walks, when I’d fight someone, I’d scream as Stephanie did at Sable during their food fight.
I used to measure my legs to see if they were as long as Stacy Keibler’s-they were and I grew up to be her height. I developed a liking for long jackets after seeing Gail Kim (and the Undertaker of course). I downloaded their themes from my old MP3 players. The women on my TV screen in those little sexy outfits gave me confidence in myself to be a badass if I wanted in a time where I was picked on and teased for not fitting the mold. The women of the wrestling world were my role models, even the heels were to be admired.
