For The Love Of Wraslin'

Something that I am extremely passionate about is wrestling. When I was younger, my mother did her very best to make me into a prissy sissy little lady. Now, I wrestle with the guys at practice and hold my own against them. Let's just say that her efforts were futile....

Pinning my opponent a minute into the match!

Once I got to high school I discovered the wonderful world of contact sports! It started with rugby, and the following year my friend decided to go out for the wrestling team. I was aware that our school had a team but I had no interest in joining it. My friend convinced me to go with her on the first week so that she would know somebody there, and me being the wonderfully loyal person that I am, went with her. I had no intention of being on the team, but after the first few practices I was hooked.


Up until this point I had been hopelessly clumsy and was unable to play even badminton without injuring myself and others. So when I began to kick butt on the mat and receive complements on my technique, strength and aggression, it was a huge confidence boost! In my first year alone, I won several gold medals and now hold the titles of WCSSAA Champion (Twice) and CWOSSA Silver medalist. I joined a club team outside of school and got the opportunity to wrestle at a higher level and work with extremely talented coaches and call a few national and international champions my teammates. They inspire me every practice to train and practice harder and ask more of myself.

To be really successful on the mat it takes strength, technique, passion, aggression, determination, sacrifice and something my club coaches stress: MENTAL TOUGHNESS! Wrestling has pretty much taken over my schedule (7 practices between Monday and Thursday!) and when I come home covered in bruises with sprains and pulled muscles, small pieces of my hair ripped out, and burst blood vessels disfiguring my ears, I ask myself, "Why am I doing this?" My answer to that is: the feeling of my hand being raised in the air declaring me as the winner of the match is the most rewarding feeling in the world. It justifies everything that I put myself through.

The gold medal match at WCSSAA last year.

Wrestling has taught me the value of dedication; that your rewards are directly proportional to your effort. It's a great outlet and I'm a much happier person during the season since I have the opportunity to take my frustration onto the mat and leave it there. The rush of adrenaline as I slam my opponent into the mat is addicting, and it is pretty funny watching my mother cringe as she watches what I do to my opponents in matches. Once, she even apologized to my opponent's mother for me dislocating her daughter's shoulder instead of congratulating me on winning the gold medal match! It truly is a blood, sweat, and tears sport and I love it! <3

My biggest fan!

Hungry For More......

One book that I absolutely LOVE is The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. It has nonstop suspense that will keep you on the edge of your seat the entire time, captivatingly realistic characters, descriptive action scenes (without crossing the line into being gory), and a few heart-warming moments that, put together, make it the perfect novel. Plus, I kinda have a thing for Peeta.

The story gives readers a peek into human nature: how depraved, volatile, and ruthless we all have the potential to be when given the chance. But, it also shows just how selfless we can be and how much we are willing to sacrifice for those we love. And totally not in a cheesy, desperate ‘Twilight love’ way. The main character is a strong and self-reliant female who isn’t afraid to go her own way, and I have complete respect for that.

I think that Suzanne Collins’ portrayal of the future is, historically, accurate. Gladiator games were very similar, with contestants thrown into an arena and forced to fight until the death for the pleasure of viewers, and also as a form of social control. The Aztecs would give human sacrifices to please their gods, and today we have reality shows with elimination contests. History has a tendency to repeat itself, so I think that this is a potentially realistic idea.

This book allows readers to feel the thrill of hunting and being hunted in a life or death scenario without ever leaving the couch. Face it, most of us who think it’d be cool to be in the Games would probably wet themselves in the first ten minutes. Or die. ’Cause that’s what happens a lot in this book.

This book left me hungry for more, so thank goodness it's part of a trilogy!

When I Wear Clothes, I Wear The Pants

Given the chance, I would most like to revisit age three. Way back then I was (in the words of my mother) a self-guided authoritarian, obstinate, spirited, assertive, and independent. Translated: Eccentric daily challenge sent directly from hell.

When asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I responded with firm conviction, “An archaeologist or a palaeontologist.......or a crossing guard, ’cause they only have to work before and after school!” Obviously, salaries were a huge factor in my decision. A self taught expert on all things related to Egypt and dinosaurs, I treated anyone who asked to a lecture.

I was also a hopeful romantic, and spent a great deal of time scoping out prospective husbands. I once told a waitress that “(name removed to protect his identity) doesn’t want to marry me, so now I have to marry the Squirt,” alluding to my new baby brother.

Definitely not a go-with-the-flow kid, I was always the one to branch off and start my own stream, but NEVER before damming the river first. I was also the self-proclaimed leader of my own army, my weapons: an over active imagination and a disturbingly loud voice, the troops: my vulnerable parents.

Like Hitler, only cuter.....

My mother first sensed a pecking-order challenge when, at the tender age of three, I called her by her first name for several months. The arrival of my baby brother just weeks before my 3^rd birthday was the spark that set off the firework show of my curious behaviour. Through hell or high water, I was staying in the spotlight that had been trained on me my whole life. I started this by wearing what my parents now refer to as the “nightie from hell”. I refused to take it off for 6 weeks, deciding that everywhere I went, it would most certainly be in that Esmeralda nightgown.

At this time I was going through my tribal stage; trying valiantly to assert my warrior status within my parents’ home. The situation became so extreme that my mother had to make an “underwear must be worn at the table” rule. Naked with a princess crown, my motto was: I am preschooler hear me roar! To this day, I’m still trying to claim my God-given right to rule the house.
Yeah, I’d say I was a pretty average kid.
I definitely miss being three. There were no responsibilities like homework or a job, I was going to marry the boy next door, and I didn’t even have to wear clothes unless I was sitting at the dinner table! I was in charge and life was good.