I do hope, with all due respect and honor, that you underestimate me. After all, I am the petite Asian girl who looks so foreign and strange in the pin-striped suit instead of my traditional kimono. You see me in a conference room, so small in the black leather chair, my black hair tied back in a neat bun and wonder how thick my oriental accent will be when I open my lips, if I dare open my lips in front of men. I will bow my head, giggle softly beneath my right hand at all the jokes that I will not understand. You think anything you try to pull will go unnoticed, because I shall not question your righteousness or superiority. If I dare speak up, I will cower at your response and apologize profusely while bowing on my knees at your Prada loafers. Look at me in that room triumphantly. Believe that I am weak. Believe that I don't belong. Believe that you will win.
Please underestimate me. I desire it. For the moment you do, I will place my cup of green tea down on the marble table, walk up to you, bow slightly and then numb your chucks with my numchucks. And when you're on the floor doubled over in pain wondering what just hit you, I will sit back in my black leather chair and resume delicately sipping my green tea.
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