The Weight of the Matter

I was a gluttonous girl this weekend in all sense of the word.  I literally ate and slept, it was needed, I have no guilt but my choices this weekend only served to highlight the seriousness of my little brother's (he's a fake little brother, not blood just a sweet bond) starvation.  Now, everyone in my world knows that I love good food.  I like to cook good food, eat good food, buy good food, read about good food, dream about good food, discover good food - it's one of the finer things in my life.  These extra twenty pounds were worth the twenty dollars I spent on good food, until I go bathing suit shopping of course and then there's twenty other excuses why I just can't control these extra curves. 

My little brother has been starving himself for three days to make weight for wrestling.  How sick is that.  Now I am no good at the starvation thing to begin with but there is a serious problem with this.  There are adults in his world encouraging him to starve himself so that he can participate in a sporting event.  This is as heinous to me as girls starving themselves to fit into clothes that are made in 36 sizes, not that I'm encouraging obesity.  He won't eat anything, he won't drink water, he is depressed and hardly talks.  This logic may be as demented as adults shaping young teens minds by instilling in them that athletics is more important than their health BUT considering the barbaric nature of wrestling, as a coach, wouldn't you want your players or minions or whatever the boys in monkey suits are called in that satanic sport to be well-rested and full of energy and strength during their match?  Or maybe they make them starve themselves to reach a weight that is medically noted as severe so that the boys are demonically pissed off and foaming at the mouth when they get in the ring?  Either way, I refuse to support Z in this sport due to the weight of the matter at hand in addition to the fact that I think their suits are utterly unsuitable for anyone to wear!