Body Pressure

February 21, 2018
By Anonymous

There’s always dread cruising through my body everytime I see the same number appear before me. They look back at me tauntingly. One hundred and eleven pounds. I let out a sigh of relief. There was satisfaction from seeing those number it made my ego and self esteem rise once I was stepping off the scale the ladies in front of me recorded my weight down.

They note down that I am in the 114.5 weight class and they put a number on my hand telling the girl behind to step forward onto the scale. I started to pack up my clothes and I heard the girl curse loudly behind me. I looked over and it was the same girl that was told to get on the scale after me. “I’m a pound over my weight class. I can’t lift in a bigger weight class with bigger girls,” she said in a thick voice coming out of her thick figure.

The girl was frantic and I knew sadly how she felt the fear of not making into a smaller weight class is awful. Many of us go to drastic measures to make ourselves lower into a smaller weight class. We would run with as many layers of clothings on, we would make ourselves throw up, we would take water pills to make ourselves urinate more, or anything to lose that weight to get into a lower weight class.

I heard gagging come from the bathroom while I stared at my clothing not having the energy to put them on. I gazed at my reflection searching every inch of me. I had a large figure for a girl of my size broad shoulders, muscular arms, a slight curve a my waist, a faint abdominal line, thick legs, and here was something so revolting of about myself. I tried to picture with a smaller body with less curves and how I would appreciate myself. The gagging stopped and there was splashing along with a stench that made my nose pinch up.

I peered at myself up and down like a confused animal that couldn’t comprehend it was looking at its own reflection. I didn’t eat that day nor did I have anything to drink that day. I gave a look around to see that the girls were either chatting it up or were doing the same thing I was doing. Evaluating and examining our bodies as they were to be help up in display for the world to see.

There was a sudden tap on my shoulder while I was turning around the tap continued in quick and aggravating manner and by the time I was fully around they were tapping into my collarbone that glistening out. “Is there something wrong?” I asked her. Her eyes lit up with the shame shine of my oily skin. “I just wanted to let you know that you have such a beautiful body and it’s absolutely perfect!” she starts to go on a tangent about how my body is thinking she is showering me with compliments.

Tuning her out I smiled trying to show that I was still listening. My brain shut down all the words she was saying and she exclaiming about about me and asking too many questions about how my body was the way it was. I forced an indirect response through tight lips for the more she kept talking about the more my body felt more of a walking pile of disgust. I walked out of the weighing room and walked a bit lost to my coach to let him know what I weighed. I took all 7 minutes that I had peacefully pondering about the oddest things that had nothing to do that numbers that identified me as.

I finally arrived and he waited with a giant grin plastered on his face as soon as he saw me. I can tell he is waiting for me get as pumped as he is so I place a giant confident smile on my face that was as fake as my mood was. “What are you weighing at?,” he said with his thick southern accent. I tried to make my voice sound indifferent, “I weigh a hundred and eleven pounds.” He got excited and yells “Yeeeeah Girl! You got this down!” I tried to match the same energy he had, but felt those numbers under my skin bothering me.

Lifting began and I had to zone in on my lifts during each lift I had to make sure everything on me was safely secured. I had to make sure that my belt was tight around me, my suit was tight around me, and make sure my head wouldn’t start playing games with me. Everything turned into a mind game about whether or not my body can handle the weight.

I started to doubt everything I was doing for my first lift things went smoothly, but my brain kept yelling at me that my body can’t handle the pressure. I was up for my second lift of the day and standing underneath the weight felt like a full life span passed by me. My eyes wandered from the bar to the weights and back again. Finally my eyes landed on the judge, he yelled, “SQUAT!” Going down was the most difficult process. I had to keep pushing my body to go down further and more inches down further. My body screamed that the pressure was unbearable and to just collapse the amount of pressure was unbearable. I pushed my body forward until I had to rack it up.

Throughout the meet I noticed what my body is fully capable of as long as I just keep pushing through my limits. Every lift that got difficult I just had to tell my body to keep going and to keep striving for a bit more. After the meet was over a new realization came over me. My body is so much that I gave it credit for and is capable to do what I set my mind to.

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