Suckish life

Starvation

“Grumble….grumble….” The sounds of my stomach could be heard from the other end of the bus. The fatty freshly fried crispy chicken my lucky friends were eating did not help to settle my stomach. “Why? Why must I have starved myself for five days?” I asked myself. The answer was simple. We had the best crew team our school had had in years and we were hopefuls to make it to nationals, but first we had to win this race. I sluggishly fell off the bus like a slinky down a flight of stairs.

As one of the captains, I thoroughly enjoyed the sport. Though that fun had its end it was fun up until the point where my coach had decided I could race in the lightweight division; I only had to lose five pounds. “That’s nothing,” We all thought. What a mistake. The day of the race came before the official weigh-ins, we had our own scale, and I was under the cut off by a few pounds. “Awesome!” I exclaimed. So thinking I was going to pass the weigh-ins, I gallantly tread to weigh-in, only to find that our scale was WRONG.

Sprinting with sweat dripping down my face like rain drops gliding down a window, I tried to lose the few ounces of weight that starvation and dehydration had not taken care of. Finally one minute before the weigh station closed and my chest fluctuating like a big balloon with a hole trying to be filled I arrived for my last chance. Standing on the scale watching the needle prance around the cut off mark, I held my breath in an attempt to float as if I was full of helium, which was an idea that I thought of too late to try.

Surrounded by my teammates and coaches and even some parents, none of which included any of my family, the pressure could have sure enough weighed me down, or up I should say. Then, finally the needles brilliant suspense filled dance had ended. My weight equaled the cut off, I made it! After all the stress, the depression and the struggle, I gladly accepted an apple as my reward.