So, I’ve been retired from derby for just about 4 weeks now, and oddly, it doesn’t really feel like I’m in any state of recovery from addiction, or anything like that. I joke that I feel like a prisoner that’s been in solitary, only now to be released into gen-pop, and see people I haven’t seen, and do things I haven’t done for a long time, almost 4 years to be more specific.
I’ve also joked that I’m not breaking up with derby. We’re just in an open relationship. I’m still skating with the local junior league, coaching fresh meat, etc. But, derby and I now have an understanding that I’m also allowed to sleep in, skip parties, see my non-derby pals, craft, and do pretty much whatever I want.
Though the timing is funny, because I plan on trying to get pregnant sometime in the fall. Recently, I had to forgo a groupon for free laser hair removal, planning to be pregnant and unable to use it. Realizing that within the next few months I will need to start doing things a bit differently has made me realize that I am in a unique time-frame in which my body belongs to me, not to my derby team, and not to my fetus.
Stay with me here…when I was skating, I was one of those skaters that made a conscious decision to eat well, exercise, sleep, and be the healthiest skater I could be, so that I could contribute my 100% on bout day. Derby also meant passing on other stuff, like drinking less, not getting tattooed (thus missing contact drills), missing out on family functions scheduled on bout days.
Now, being pregnant will mean watching every little thing, including what sort of nail polish I can use, how well I wash my fruit, avoiding certain cheeses and so on. I am at my most vain level of anxiety when I see my gray roots peeking out and worry how I can cope with not dying my hair for at least 3 months. Holy smokes…
In the meantime, I’m enjoying this time when I am the only person I need to eat, sleep, exercise, (or not exercise) for. Nothing is causing me pain, making me have to pee or keeping me up at night. My body is mine to serve, and neither my roller derby team or my fetus has any say in the matter.
First Whistle 