My brother wrestled in high school and did some pretty bizarre things to stay in his weight class. Keep in mind, this was the 1980s. There was a Mylar jogging suit, restrictive eating, and a lot of spitting.
Looking back, a teenage boy in a shiny suit, jogging and spitting, all to avoid facing someone a few pounds heavier feels extra. He also didn’t want to have an unfair advantage over someone smaller which feels like basic sports”man”ship.
It was understood that size mattered and we had a scale, weight classes, and rules to account for it.
Off the mat, apparently, the smaller person is supposed to do the accounting.
For the record, my brother is flawless. He is now a father to three adult children and is working toward becoming a teacher after he retires from government work. That memory from his wrestling days raises a question that I keep coming back to:
Why do we account so carefully for physical differences in sport, yet sometimes struggle to acknowledge them off the mat?
Size matters.
I’ve been thinking about what I want my daughter to understand about her body as she grows.
She is nine, so we keep our conversations age appropriate. Right now, we focus on female bodies: periods, growth spurts, body hair, and feelings. We talk about how bodies change at different paces.
In time, I will need to find the words for another layer. Physical differences between boys and girls can affect how we experience a situation and how easily we can leave it.
During puberty, the average strength difference between boys and girls grows considerably, particularly in the upper body. Yes, there is plenty of individual variation, but in general the difference is real.
I want my daughter to feel strong and capable, enjoy friendships with girls and boys, trust the good people in her life, and move through the world with confidence. Understanding physical differences can be part of that confidence. She deserves useful information about the body she lives in and the situations she may encounter.
In wrestling, we understand that size matters despite athletic confidence and mindset.
Outside of sport, it’s different. There are no weigh-ins before a friendship, a date, or a moment that starts as a joke. We have to learn to recognize what is happening as it unfolds.
For my daughter, that learning can begin long before dating is part of her life.
It can begin when roughhousing gets too rough. When someone keeps tickling her after she asks them to stop, even though she is laughing. When a friend grabs her wrist to keep her from leaving. When she plays along but would actually like the game to end.
These moments give us something concrete to talk about.
Did you still want to play?
Could you stop when you wanted to?
What happened when you said, “That’s enough”?
In sport, discipline includes respecting the rules and stopping when the action is called. Off the mat, “That’s enough” should be met with the same restraint.
But “should” and “does” are different words.
I want her to notice how the other person responds when she pulls back. And I want to be dang sure she has practiced ways to leave and get help if they don’t stop.
Someone can be bigger than her and be a wonderful, respectful friend. Someone her own size can ignore her boundaries.
Size matters. So does what someone chooses to do with their strength.
I will help her notice both.
Want more ways to start the conversation?
I share conversation starters about puberty, growing bodies, and staying connected with your daughter. Sign up below for occasional Pep Talk Diaries emails.
