The damn T-shirt didn’t even fit. It was a triple-XL, designed for a man the size of Fedor Emelianenko, not a woman of 120 pounds or so. Julianna Peña had taken the fight—what might pass for a pro debut—knowing she wasn’t getting paid in actual currency. But the ill-fitting shirt the promoter tossed her as compensation for her efforts added insult to whatever minor injury she suffered.
This was in 2009 or so. These were the early days of MMA. And the infancy of women’s MMA. Dana White was still declaring that women were supposed be pretty, not swollen and bloody and puffy.