*note to reader: the following text is purely reflective*
it's funny how disorders lie in the least suspected places. i've always been the ordinary girl. i'm as normal as they come. "well-rounded".. "a keeper" [copyright B & A]. if even the normal think this way, then there must be an aweful lot of disorder in what we try to consider an orderly world.
i woke up at 1pm today, after a long night out. had a lovely breakfast of french toast, and a small bowl of soup later on for supper.
it's now 10pm, and i'm hungry.
my mind jumps back to grage nine: it's about the same time of year, and i'm anxious about the upcoming wrestling competition. regionals were last week- provincials are this saturday.
i'm between categories. right at the top of 49kg. 1/4lb and i push over to the 52 category.. and i can't compete.
[and they say gymnastics and skating are bad for female self-esteem..]
but its not the self-esteem that is the problem. i was perfectly happy with how i looked- but it was the numbers that counted and i wanted to compete.
i chugged gallons of water for a week. tupperware sandwhich containers were stealthily emptied between classes. daily, if not more often, updates from the numbers were mandatory.
the pains and 'discomfort' were ironically comforting:
when everything else was awry, i was in control.
i could withstand whatever i threw at myself. cramps and troubled digestion would last only as long as i willed them to.
my mother hardly noticed until the last day. the competition was today, i tried to avoid breakfast without her noticing. I swore i would eat as soon as the weigh in took place. and i would- really, that was all that mattered. the numbers won't lie.
we rode the bus to the meet, and teammates chowed down on hearty breakfasts packed for them by moms. i wrang my fingers. the weigh in approached.
i passed effortlessly through. the metal bar balanced beautifully in mid-air as i stepped on and off the platform.
i felt successfull, but cheated at the same time.
turns out the scale at home was innaccurate. the numbers had lied, and all of my work had been in vain. i don't use scales anymore.
*sits back from the keyboard*..
*ventures to the kitchen for a plate of nachos and a glass of lactose-free milk*.
it's funny how disorders lie in the least suspected places. i've always been the ordinary girl. i'm as normal as they come. "well-rounded".. "a keeper" [copyright B & A]. if even the normal think this way, then there must be an aweful lot of disorder in what we try to consider an orderly world.
i woke up at 1pm today, after a long night out. had a lovely breakfast of french toast, and a small bowl of soup later on for supper.
it's now 10pm, and i'm hungry.
my mind jumps back to grage nine: it's about the same time of year, and i'm anxious about the upcoming wrestling competition. regionals were last week- provincials are this saturday.
i'm between categories. right at the top of 49kg. 1/4lb and i push over to the 52 category.. and i can't compete.
[and they say gymnastics and skating are bad for female self-esteem..]
but its not the self-esteem that is the problem. i was perfectly happy with how i looked- but it was the numbers that counted and i wanted to compete.
i chugged gallons of water for a week. tupperware sandwhich containers were stealthily emptied between classes. daily, if not more often, updates from the numbers were mandatory.
the pains and 'discomfort' were ironically comforting:
when everything else was awry, i was in control.
i could withstand whatever i threw at myself. cramps and troubled digestion would last only as long as i willed them to.
my mother hardly noticed until the last day. the competition was today, i tried to avoid breakfast without her noticing. I swore i would eat as soon as the weigh in took place. and i would- really, that was all that mattered. the numbers won't lie.
we rode the bus to the meet, and teammates chowed down on hearty breakfasts packed for them by moms. i wrang my fingers. the weigh in approached.
i passed effortlessly through. the metal bar balanced beautifully in mid-air as i stepped on and off the platform.
i felt successfull, but cheated at the same time.
turns out the scale at home was innaccurate. the numbers had lied, and all of my work had been in vain. i don't use scales anymore.
*sits back from the keyboard*..
*ventures to the kitchen for a plate of nachos and a glass of lactose-free milk*.
posted by Suzanne Zappia at 10:01 PM
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