Chapter 13
Dani
I finished off my workout feeling strong. I was four weeks out from my fight, so we were tampering down the weights and ramping up the fight-specific training. My nutrition, water intake, and sleep all had to be on point. No excuses.
My evening plan was to head home, have dinner, and sleep for as many hours as my brain would let me. I glanced at my phone as I walked to my car and was surprised to see seventeen notifications from my social media. I really only use social media to send memes back and forth with Josh. I stopped in the dark parking lot and opened the app to find myself tagged in a post.
Saturday, March 29 th , Canadian Women’s Amateur Fight Night. There was a list of all the match-ups and pictures of all the fighters. Okay, that accounted for one notification, what about the others? I scrolled through and found myself tagged in several of the comments.
@DaniKeen997 ease up on the steroids
@DaniKeen997 I thought this was a women’s fight???
@DaniKeen997 sports bra is just for decoration lol
The comments went on and on, not just about me but about the other fighters.
No one watches women’s sports. We all look like men. No one would want to marry us. No one would want to fuck us.
They brought up every insecurity I’d had in my life and a ton that I hadn’t. In my head, I knew that I didn’t care if I had muscles, and some people thought that I looked masculine. Being female didn’t just mean one thing. I didn’t care about Joe Basement-Dweller, who didn’t think I looked good enough to marry, date, or even go to bed with. I didn’t care. At least, I didn’t want to care.
Realistically, the words stung. Strangers took time out of their day to try and make me feel less than. It was the bullies in high school all over again. I had worked a long time to give myself permission to exist in this world as I was. Even if people thought I was too tall or too whatever. I hated the fact that these comments made me want to shrink. To retreat into anonymity so no one would care enough about what I was doing to make me a target.
Fight training was a draining experience. It took up every second of the day I wasn’t at work and then some. Hydration was key, so I was peeing constantly. I had to hit my protein targets, and this close to the weight in salt was moderated, and sweet foods were off the menu. It would be worth it. It just made it harder to mentally turn the other cheek.
I threw my phone into my bag and drove home with my muscles tired and my chest tight. I’d put myself out there. I guess I should have expected that some of the attention would be bad, but I really hadn’t. There were positive comments too of course, but those weren’t the ones that stuck in my head.
One day. I so wanted to give myself one day to just grieve for the kid inside me that dealt with this kind of bullshit day in and day out. I owed it to her to present my best self at this fight. The most skilled, the strongest and really kick some ass. She deserved that; I deserved that. Still, a little support wouldn’t hurt.
The house was dark and quiet when I stepped through the front door. Despite having been stuck by a needle just the day before, Josh had picked up an extra shift. I loved my brother, but it was Brock I wanted. I had a boring dinner from the veggies and meat I had prepared over the weekend and jumped in the shower. The hot water did a little to alleviate the soreness in my muscles but nothing to get my head back in the game. Each step of training drained a little more comfort from my life. My reality was the hard steel of weights, the sharp strike of a punch. No comfort foods or lazy Sundays. No sleeping in or days off.
There was one thing that I knew would make me feel better. The fact that he was the only thing I wanted at that moment told me everything I needed to know about how fast this relationship was moving forward. I was pretty sure he was all in the same way that I was. I hesitated for half a second before throwing on a tank and shorts and texting Brock.