Confidence, tenacity, self-esteem, etc; all vital components in becoming successful in such a brutal and unforgiving sport, but the mentality and discipline behind the scenes is always vastly more difficult than the cardio and skillets involved. Everyone has those days where you wake up after an unsatisfying night’s “sleep”, groggy as hell the next morning, throat raw from yelling at the kids, heart hurting after a spat with your partner, and every fiber of your being screaming in protest to be physical due to the aches and pains in all of your joints, sinews, muscles, ligaments, and nerves. Your eyes have awoken hours before your brain, caffeine unable to do it justice, and your body is bitching at you for having the audacity to move when all your pain receptors are in overdrive, but you do it anyway because it has to get done. The kids get to school, dinner gets made (2 different meals for those who can enjoy consuming calories and those who need to cut weight), the house gets cleaned, the laundry gets done, and you manage to drag yourself to training, deprived of sleep, void of calories, and consumed with lethargy. The days you want to go and train are never the days you get better, but it’s on the days you push past every single mental barrier to accomplish what needs to get done. And then to do all of this on top of steamed veggies and lean proteins has you clamoring for some dulce de leche, but alas, no such luck for a weight cutting fighter.
I’ve been struggling a bit with my reflection in the mirror. Last week, I went from being able to count every single ab on my toned torso, to an average, albeit strong athletic body. I was so disciplined in my diet, nutrition, and workouts and it showed, for approximately 24 hours. My body was depleted of fluids, which of course made every muscle striation and cut in my physique stand out quite boldly. The professional photographer captured great images of me looking strong, powerful, and fierce. I felt so incredibly beautiful. And now, what am I? There’s almost a disconnect between the fighter making weight and the one who has just fought. I enjoyed every bit of ice cream, cinnamon bun, macaroni and cheese, burger, fries, and pizza I was able to get my grubby little hands on. Even now, I shoveled several handfuls of animal crackers down my gullet. And yet, I had all this guilt afterwards from all these indulgences and felt bloated, lethargic, tired, lazy, and full of gas and regret. I know I am still strong, but I can no longer bounce a quarter off my abs and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a little bit disheartening. I was so proud of the appearance I was able to accomplish and now I am having difficulty coming to terms with the body I now see before me. But I refuse to head on a downward spiral on my relationship with food. To me, it’s a slippery slope and I have too many young women in my life that are influenced both directly and indirectly by my words, thoughts, and behaviors and I never want them emulating anything as toxic as self hatred. I am more than my appearance, and as long as I’m healthy, my body is beautiful at any size.
I’ve always thought that the mental aspect of fighting is vastly more difficult than the physical ones. The sacrifices, discipline, and exhaustion seep in to play tricks on your mind, constantly convincing you that you aren’t good enough. We are in a sate of constant comparison, always comparing our size, skill, technique, strength, power, and yes, even our looks. And whether people will admit it or not, appearance plays a huge part in marketability of a fighter and that’s a scary thought. Plus when you are in the public eye, everyone from clerks at a grocery store to housewives at home feel entitled to make comments on your level of attraction or physical stature of your body composition. I’ve had people make posts about how ugly I am, or perfect strangers comment on a visible tummy roll as I was snapped in a very unflattering position and angle. The anonymity of social media gives people the confidence to say as they please without the fear of repercussions. You need tough skin in this industry, and my heart breaks for those who don’t have a strong support system to lift them up when the hurtful remarks get too much. One thing that always helps me learn not to take any of these comments to heart, is a memory from back in my bartending days. I was serving a customer who was notorious for never bathing, morbidly obese, downing his 8th Coca Cola and shoveling endless helpings of cheese sauce drenched pasta in his mouth start spewing critiques at the fighters I had on tv. It happened to be one Ronda Rousey’s first fights in the UFC where she totally dominated, and I remember him saying how she would be pretty if she just got that mole on her face removed and that is why she won’t ever be successful. A good life lesson for me to take other’s opinions with a grain of salt.
I mean, sure, it’s always nice to be told you’re beautiful or have a nice body, but again, it’s not my ultimate goal when I am in the cage. Plus I have a partner who makes me feel beautiful every single day, so the irrelevant opinions of strangers on the internet won’t make or break me. I will learn to be kinder to the person I see staring back at the mirror and I will learn that my body is capable of many powerful feats regardless of whether an abdominal muscle is peeking through or hibernating for the winter. My relationship with food will continue to be healthy and not used as a form of punishment or control just to satiate my vanity. I enjoy pushing myself past any physical limitations society would try to place on me, but I must also make sure it is not at the cost of my mental health as well. I saw a professional fighter recently talking about how they had to previously take sometime off of fighting due to the burnout that came with cutting weight. It is tough on the mind, body, and spirit, but it is always worth it. Sometimes, we just need a little bit of as break to rest our mental well-being. There are enough people out there clamoring to tear us down at any given opportunity, so why provide them with any additional fodder and why join in on them by additionally being cruel to myself. They say that 2020 is the year to explode with self confidence and be proud of our bodies and our lives, so let’s do this.
People are going to talk shit about my body regardless. Whether it’s because “real women have curves”, “only dogs like bones,” it’s “too manly”, “women should be softer”, “muscles are gross” etc. Or “wow she let herself go”, “too thick for atom weight”, “what happened to her muscle”, “she got fat” etc. I may no longer be breaking necks on the street with how quick heads are turning to look at me, but ya girl graduated to breaking limbs in the fucking cage and smashing faces. I much prefer blending in with the masses and rocking sweats anyways, I am just way too sore and exhausted to glamorize myself these days. And on the rare occasion that it happens, people are blown away with shock and awe so that’s pretty cool. Right now, all I wanna do is fight, so I will suck it up and make peace with my body’s appearance and keep my relationship with food an amicable one. Yes, I am eating for fuel, but it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it as well. Nothing ever tastes as good as victory pizza does as well, and that is something my tastebuds will treasure forever. I want to win and succeed more than I want to indulge on calories, and I respect the hard work my body puts in to attain all of this so it’s not fair to be so critical of the person I see in photographs when I am not in fight camp. My body is capable of punching faces, lifting 3 times my body weight, Jiu Jitsu submissions, and 2 title belts so I will give it the credit it deserves. I am worth more than my appearance and with Queen in my title, it’s time to enforce my reign. Confidence comes naturally with success, but success comes only to those who are confident.
