Why I Hate Wrestling
And no, I'm not talking about "pro wrestling,"either. I was standing near the gym, eyeballing three boys who were acting like knuckleheads, when along came "Pee-wee." He looked down in the mouth. Every week he asks if he can pass Checkpoint Cornelius where I guard the hallway and its bathrooms from dirty deeds so that he can go weigh-in to find out if he can eat lunch and drink some milk. Not when, not how much, but IF.
"Hey there, Pee-wee. How'd the weigh-in go?"
"It sucked! I'm five pounds over for the match this weekend! I haven't eaten since yesterday morning, either! And now I can't eat lunch!"
And off he walked, his head practically hanging down to his belt-buckle. Now this is a fit kid-- lean muscle, probably about 5'9" or so. But he's being expected to compete in a weight class that obviously does not match his body. Every day I watch him walk around (he's constantly moving) eating ONE mini-muffin.
This. Is. Not. Healthy.
There is no way he can safely lose 5 pounds in less than 72 hours. I am seriously afraid that he will hurt himself with this yo-yo dieting when he is not in any way out of shape, and is already on the skinny side for his height.
And that's why I hate wrestling.