We're talking about the skaters with Pippi Longstocking ponytails and more tattoos than Popeye and almost as much swagger.

Moms, antique furniture refinishers, teachers and businesswomen by day, they answer to names like Bad Mutha Smucka and Lavern N. Surly and swear like sailors at night.

They are women who cheer when they swing their butts into another skater, knocking her to the floor. As she gets up, she laughs with her teammates as they check to make sure she's not bleeding or too bruised to keep skating.

These are the Dutchland Derby Rollers, a newly forming league of roller derby competitors in Lancaster County. Since February, the ever-growing group of women, whose ages range between 18 and 35, has been practicing at the Castle Roller Skating Rink twice a week.

Some time in the next six to nine months, the Dutchland Rollers hope to begin competing against each other with four teams of 10-14 players. Currently, 31 women are on the league roster and leaders are looking for more good skaters with a thirst for competition and a flair for show. League president Jen Cole hopes the Lancaster league eventually will join the Women's Flat Track Derby Association.

Until mid-April practices were about improving skating control and speed -- "tits over toes, ladies" was the oft-shouted advice to prevent wobbly skaters from bruising on a tailbone.

"It's a lot easier to fall forward," said Cole of Lancaster, and a whole lot easier to get up when a bunch of speeding skaters are behind you.

By the end of April, helmets were required, pads were a given and mouth guards were advised as training for serious roller derby began.

"Prepare to fall," said coach Alexis Biondi as she introduced a drill that required the women to lock the wheels of their skates in another person's skates.

"You are going to need to know how to stay in control when your wheels get locked in someone else's," Biondi said.

"Wahoo," cheered Mary Alkons of Lancaster as her wheel jam sent another skater to the floor. Then Alkons, whose roller derby name is Mary that Motha Oh God, waited to make sure the skater was OK.

"Roller derby gives a way of getting your aggressions out in a healthy, positive way while still being able to maintain your personality," said Cole.

The sport has a reputation of being like "professional wrestling on skates," said Cole, but it's really not. Though it has some of the showmanship aspects, the principal emphasis is on the athleticism.

Skaters have to be superior athletes to deliver tough hip checks to opposing players and withstand their shoulder check in return. The women stretch and strengthen muscles so they can skate fast and hard and brag about their hard derby butts.

The basic goal of roller derby is to get one member of the team, called the jammer, to pass as many players of the opposite team as she can in a 2-minute session. She has five teammates (four blockers and a pivot) to help her knock opponents out of her way. The team gets a point for each opponent the jammer passes.

Of course, the other team is doing the same thing and both teams are skating in the same pack, so toughness and aggression are the name of the game.

Brassiness, too -- displayed in their attitudes, rink names and fashion statements.

Each skater gets to choose a rink name when the officers decide they have shown enough commitment to the league. Often the rink names are a play on another name, like Josie Cuervo, Cole's tequila-tinged persona.

Coach Jaclyn Downs chose Swoop Deville as her derby name: "I like to think I'm fast," she said. "I'm kind of swooping up behind people."

Her flirty skirt swoops too -- short and sassy topping off her fishnet stocking and pink kneepads.

Teammate Fujiyama Mama, who in real life is Andrea Anderson, a Lancaster mother of 3- and 6-year-olds, said the best thing about being a derby girl is how empowering the sport is.

"It's fun. It's got burlesque elements. There's a comedic element to it ... but it's a lot of skill and hard work too."

And all the women now have 30 new friends who love to skate just like they do, many of the players said.

"You always feel good when you leave for home," said Amy Mumma of Lancaster. "Nobody's putting anybody down. Nobody's acting better than anybody. If you can't do it, people will help you."

Even if things get too aggressive or harsh on the rink, the members commit to leave any bad feeling on the rink and pick up the friendship when they go out for a drink after practice, said Cole.

Or sometimes, they take care of conflict-- real or mock -- on the rink like Anderson did at a recent practice.

The women were in groups working on a drill where the jammer had to make her way through a pack of six blockers, one of whom was Anderson.

Coach Biondi jokingly warned the pack to watch out for Anderson's dirty elbows like the ones Anderson had thrown during a previous practice. Self-conscious, Anderson said she made sure she kept her elbows tucked during the drill, but she kept an eye on Biondi.

"She was throwing elbows all over the place and being twice as dirty as me," wrote Anderson in an e-mail, explaining what happened next.

Everybody stopped to watch as the two exchanged mock insults.

"Did you just call me a dirty b----,?" Biondi yelled.

Fujiyama Mama turned her back, flipped her skirt in the air and waved her rumba pants at Biondi.

Everybody laughed and kept on skating. It's just another night at roller derby practice.

Linda Espenshade's e-mail is lespenshade@lnpnews.com.