"Sweet as sugar, cold as ice, hurt me once, I'll break you twise" (literally) - Amy Winehouse
Songs: Bodak Yellow – Cardi B (bad bitch hours before the match)
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It's only two hours before the match. To say I'm nervous is an understatement, my hands are shaking uncontrollably and I can't seem to stabilize my breath. Normally I'm not this nervous, but this is the most important fight in my whole carrier. If I win this, maybe the boxing community will finally stop looking at me as some weak 17-year-old girl. Everyone will know who I am. And hopefully I will become the youngest to win the championship ever. I already am the best female boxer in the U.S but I have come here for the mixed competition where both men and women can participate. It came to a point where the female league just didn't have any real competition for me, so I was moved up to the mixed category.
After I'm done with my pre-match routine, which consist of blasting bad bitch music and setting up my hair into boxing braids, but with my hair loose at the end. I put on my game fit; a red pair of shorts and a black sports bra with my stage name on, "The Devil". Then I pack my boxing gear and head out of my room and into the lobby.
At the lobby the driver from yesterday, Tony, is waiting for me, ready to drive me to the tournament. ''Are you ready?'' Tony asks. Even though I'm nervous, I have never been more ready to beat someone up. ''Yeah, I'm ready to take that title home'' I answer confidently, there's no way I'm showing anyone how nervous I really am. Not even the driver of my Fiat Multipa. Tony chuckles and smiles at me, and I force myself to smile back through the nerves. On the way to the tournament, I check my phone for new messages. I've recieved one from my dad and one from Maddy but still none from Scott. Asshole.
We get to the stadium an hour before the match starts. The building is massive.
They have really invested a lot of money into this tournament.
I go straight to the wardrobe, not wanting to talk to anyone, not that I had anyone to talk to either, no one seemed to ever want to talk to me at these tournaments... for some reason. Probably because of my gender. This world is so fucking discriminating. The women's wardrobe was of course 10x smaller than the men's *insert rolling eyes emoji here* but I was used to it. It really wasn't that weird considering the fact that there was only one girl participating in the tournament, me. I was the only girl who qualified for the mixed World Championship, I felt proud thinking about that. Today I was going to show everyone who's ever doubted me and told me that it wasn't possible for a girl to win the mixed World Championships how fucking wrong they were.
After I'm done with my warm-up I stand in front of the mirror and repeat my affirmations before going out to meet the crowd. It's become a routine and I just have to do it before every match.
I am a bad bitch..
I am a bad bitch..
I am a bad bitch..
I look at my light blue eyes through the mirror and really feel the words.
I check my phone one last time
(2) notifications
Maddy: Good luck, ily! You're a baddie, I know you can do this!!!!!!
Dad: Good luck champ! You've got this!
I close my eyes and take one deep breath before going out into the stadium.
"And his opponent: theeeee DEVIL" I hear the announcer yell through the speakers.
As I walked through the stadium, I heard the deafening yells from the audience, everyone was making some sort of noise. Everyone it seemed, except for three people sitting in the VIP lounge, smoking. I didn't know that was allowed on a sports event? Ugh rich people. So stuck up, always making their own rules and not even interested in the match it seemed like. They were talking to each other, and it didn't even seem like they noticed that I came in. I don't know why it bothered me so much, but it was probably because they didn't think of me as a worthy opponent since I was a girl, and I was so fucking sick of that. Well, the rest of the audience was making noise, most of them cheering, but I could definitely hear some booing as well, dickheads.
I walked into the ring where my opponent was waiting for me. He was massive, probably twice, if not three times my size and had short blonde hair and one of those typical dumb boxer faces that indicated that he had been beaten a little too much, so his whole face just looked wrong. He was talking to his coach. I felt a sting in my chest at the sight of them and really wished my dad was here to say his encouraging words to me.
I looked away because I didn't want it to distract me from the match, and if I was going to win this I had to be focused. I look over to the VIP lounge.. Still they don't even bother to glance my way. Why the fuck do I care?! They're just 3 stupid motherfuckers
But to be honest, they did not look like 3 stupid motherfuckers. They had this aura around them that just radiated intimidating power and wealth. I felt the hair in the back of my neck rising. Idk why but they made shivers go down my spine. There were girls everywhere around them throwing themselves onto them and trying to get their attention but they were too busy talking to even notice. I felt a bit better due to the fact that I wasn't the only girl they didn't pay attention to.
Wtf was wrong with me? Why do I care? I don't even know them.
I look away and shake off all the thoughts about the VIP-lounge guys, and anything else for that matter.
I clear my head completely and look straight into the eyes of my opponent. The announcer blows the whistle.
Lets fucking go