Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down. And I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there, I’ll tell you how I became the prince of a town called…
Wait, wrong story. Instead, let me tell you about the days leading up to the official weigh-in, and how I gained 7 lbs the day of. When I last wrote, we had 10 days to go and were starting our last week of training. I’d say spirits remained pretty high throughout that week, though we were definitely tired by Saturday. I left the gym that day ready to go home and relax until the show. There’s nothing better than being ordered to put your feet up!
Sunday afternoon, I started sneezing. Then my nose started running. NO. NO. NOT ALLOWED. Did my body listen to my mental pleas? Nope. I woke up Monday morning with a definite, no-doubt-about-it head cold. I slept until late, and then texted my trainer to ask about miracle cures. The essence of her response was: “Go home now and call me!!” Luckily, it was MLK Jr. Day, so I already had the day off. My instructions were to stay in bed, drink a ton of water and keep eating. (We were scared that my bout would be canceled if I lost any weight—I was already at the low end of our weight range.)
I stayed in bed all Monday. I had to go to work on Tuesday for several reasons, but I let the principal know that I was going to take sick leave. I went right back to bed the second I got home. On Wednesday, I stayed in bed until it was time to go to the weigh-in, except for when I was raiding the kitchen.
See, my opponent sent me a message on Wednesday morning saying that she wasn’t sure she was even down to 137 lbs. Meanwhile, I was 130 with my sick sweat clothes on. I couldn’t remember if we had to be within 7 or 8 lbs of each other, but I didn’t want to cut it too close. She didn’t eat all day, and I did. (This was a new experience. For my past weigh-ins, I dehydrated to make weight.)
I ate everything in the kitchen. Well, not at first. I didn’t want to fill up too early, only to digest it before 6pm. I started out with a solid steak-and-egg breakfast and proceeded to empty water bottle after water bottle throughout the day. Around 3 o’clock, I heated up some Italian sausage and ate a whole long thing of it. It made me feel rather queasy. Closer to 4 o’clock, I ate a whole roll of Ritz crackers, which I stole from my roommate. (Thanks, Rachel! I’ll replace them today.) The crackers made me feel bloated and thirsty at the same time, so I stomached more water.
I took a break from eating to shower and take some medicine. Then I cooked up all the macaroni that was left in a box. I made the water salty and then added butter and olive oil to the noodles. Yum! Yes, it was way too heavy and made me feel sick, but at least it tasted good. (I love butter. And olive oil. Usually separate, though.) I only had time to eat half of the noodles before leaving for the weigh-in, so I put the rest in a Tupperware container to bring with me. I continued to sip on water on MARTA, but not too much. I vowed not to pee until after I weighed in, and I had a good hour (at least) left.
The weigh-in was held at the Hard Rock Cafe, which was a great venue for the event. When I arrived, I settled my tickets and cash with Terri, turned in my ring-walk song and all that jazz. I finished the other half of my pasta, then sat down at a table for some pleasant conversation to take my mind off my bladder.
I thoroughly enjoyed chit-chatting with fellow boxers, but I was glad when the weigh-in finally started. Boxers were called to the scale in bout order, which meant my opponent and I were 7th. They weighed her first: 133 lbs. I ate all that food for nothing! But at least there was no danger of the fight being called off. Whew.
When I stepped on the scale, the lady asked me: “What’s your normal weight?” I answered: “130.” She set the scale to 130. She pushed it over… and over… and over… I couldn’t believe it. The scale balanced out at 137 lbs. Holy cow. So if you see pictures from the weigh-in and think I look like I’m about to pop, I was.
After that, I came out and looked at the free buffet (free!), but I really didn’t want anything. Milana made me eat something, so I had some lettuce. I’d been feeling pretty good during the weigh-in—determined not to act sick—but I started wilting. After chatting for a while longer, I decided to leave and go to bed ASAP. Luckily the Hard Rock is right by a MARTA station. I headed over and tried to sleep leaning against a dirty wall while waiting for the train. I wasn’t successful, but at least I got to close my eyes.
I made it home and crawled into bed. I didn’t leave bed until early Thursday afternoon. And that’s where the post about the weigh-in ends, and the post about FIGHT NIGHT will begin.
“I got in one little fight, and my mom got scared!” To see how my mom actually behaved, stay tuned for the next post all about Atlanta Corporate Fight Night 6.