I never chose to join the wrestling team. I was forced onto it. My place of competition is not the traditional ring, but the cafeteria. That makes my wrestling only more painful.
After 43 minutes of warming up my appetite through deep analysis of my French textbook, I’m famished. But I can’t automatically satisfy my hunger. I must win this fight for that beloved chicken pesto.
I shove. I kick.
There are probably many people in this school who will never talk to me again because of my belligerence in the wrestling ring. Then again, I’m not the only instigator.
I get shoved. I get kicked.
Fortunately, I am the one to push through those freshmen boys. Soon, I’m holding my newly-claimed lunch like a trophy. “We are the Champions” plays in my head.
However, my joy is rudely interrupted. I still must pass one more test before I get the gold medal. The referee sassily says that I’m too low in my account for the prize. She snatches my water and replaces it with an apple. I’m all about being nutritious, especially with my star-wrestling career. But countless studies show that water is more important in survival than any food. It’s “an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” not an apple per meal.
Upon leaving the ring, sweating and even bleeding a bit, I head towards the nearest trashcan to chuck the apple. Inside the can is a whole population of similarly abandoned fruits. Apples provide a tremendous amount of energy. These poor fruits should therefore not be used as punishment for negativity in a lunch account. The refs should save them for students who really want apples.
Then all those kids choosing to eat apples will have enough energy to become champion wrestlers like me.