Michelle's Journal (6/25/26) (Patreon)

Dear Journal:

I’m sorry I haven’t written much over the past few days.  Saturday, I received a letter from the University revoking my athletic scholarship.  I figured Judgment Day was coming in August, when incoming freshman athletes report for medical screening, but apparently judgment has already been passed.

I was hoping to drop another ten pounds before I reported.  It still wouldn’t have been pretty, and I might have ended up on some sort of probation while I finished getting back in shape, but I would’ve gotten through it.  I know I would’ve.  Especially with all the athletic trainers and dietitians I would’ve had at my disposal.

Now I won’t get the chance.  I didn’t even get a recommendation from Coach Harrell.   After everything I did for him—the sacrifices I made—he couldn’t even do that. 

Since then, I’ve been a blubbering ball of emotions.  I haven’t felt like writing or doing much of anything.  Every time I get a fire in my belly to do something—like make the university regret their decision or sue Coach Harrell’s nuts off—I find myself in the kitchen, dousing it with soda and ice cream…or something stronger if Mom and Dad forget to lock the liquor cabinet.

Speaking of Mom and Dad, they’ve tried to be supportive, but they have no clue what I’m going through.  Dad doesn’t want to know.  He just defaults to rah-rah “when the going gets tough, the tough get going” mode.  Mom is more sympathetic, but her sympathy comes with stupid questions and a cloyingness that makes me gag.

Jessie, of all people, is once again the only person who seems to understand.  Instead of trying to solve my problems or play twenty-questions, she brought me a Blizzard and a fresh perspective.

“Fuck ‘em,” she said. 

“Fuck ‘em,” I agreed. 

She even offered to poison Coach Harrell’s coffee next year.  I may take her up on that.

--Michelle