Let's get this over with

I lost my first match. By triangle. My opponent was a really tough Gracie Barra lady. She pulled guard and went for sweeps, arm bars, and triangles. I managed to prevent her from sweeping or armbarring me, and it took her several tries to get the triangle. I defended it okay for a while, but then, obviously, not so well.

The part that sucked more, though, is that through a scheduling snafu, I had no supporters in my corner and she had about 85 people yelling encouragement in Portuguese. Some of my friends were around, but my teammates didn't make it in time. So it was kind of lonely too.

I'll get over it. But not before doing the self doubt, it's-not-worth-it, why-do-I-do-this, I-am-a-fraud-and-I-don't-deserve-to-go-across-the-street-to-train-let-alone-to-Turkey-to-compete thing. I'm also getting a lot of post-mortem advice and sheepish glances in response to the question, "So, how'd you do?" People mean so well, but sometimes you just don't feel like saying the right thing to make them stop worrying that they have upset you. Because sometimes you are upset. It's not that they have upset you, but they have unwittingly reminded you of why you are upset. And made you talk about it.

And I can say that, because I do the same thing: ask people how they did. And I'm TERRIBLE about backpedaling. In those situations, for future reference, it's best to abort the conversation altogether and try again later.

I'm also eating a lot of refined sugar and flour today after a week or so of cutting down on them. I have a headache from it, which I guess is a good sign, because it means that until now I was getting it out of my system. But I'm drowning my sorrows. In M&Ms and chocolate Riesen.

At least I didn't get disqualified for going commando. Bill Cooper, an incredibly tough brown belt, had some terrific matches on his way to the finals of the brown belt open, which was today, before being DQed for not wearing underwear. I didn't see exactly what happened, but apparently his opponent went for an omo plata and secured it by grabbing the waist of Bill's pants. The pants rode down, exposing more of Bill than anyone had imagined seeing today. And the ref, I hear, stopped the action and consulted with the head ref, who noted that the rules state that men cannot, um, roam free under their gi pants. So he was summarily disqualified. That sucks.

Tomorrow is the women's purple belt open division. I'm gonna get over myself and get excited to compete, which I was before I actually did.

Now it's a few more M&Ms and then it's off to sleep, perchance to have a sugar-induced heart attack.