Now comes the fun part. *evil grin* Hypothetically speaking, let's just say you're standing atop a picturesque grassy knoll conversing with friends. If you're me, your brain starts spinning a story, and that story usually goes something like this:
Let's do another hypothetical, shall we? Let's just say you're walking down the street enjoying a deliciously overpriced coffee beverage, when suddenly, a woman dressed in a medieval-looking floor-length gown approaches you and smacks you across the face. Incidentally, I saw this happen once, but thankfully, I was not the one being smacked. I still have no idea where that woman was going or why she was wearing this outfit (it wasn't Halloween, I checked). It looked a little something like this:
Yellow was not this woman's color. She would have looked much better (and more badass) dressed as one of those Zelda-style warrior women. You know the type-- they're always wearing way less armor than they should be and carrying weapons that sort of make you want to run away screaming even though you know it's just a drawing. Like this:
If she had attacked this guy with one of those blades, he would have been a goner. I happen to play enough video games to know that bikini-armor apparently gives you the ability to pull off feats of agility that completely defy the laws of physics. In my professional (read: completely unprofessional) opinion, the more skin you show, the more vulnerable you are.
I also spend a ridiculous amount of time mapping out possible obstacles and escapes, planning what weapons and/or kung-fu moves I'd use, and cataloging who or what could be used against me in a physical fight. The way I do this every time I enter a room, you would think I had grown up in some sort of war-stricken third-world country, but no. I'm just a regular ol' pacifist living here in the regular ol' USA.