is your body your enemy?

Here are a few random quotes I've read (and, okay, in one case written) in the last 24 hours, all from fit women who seriously weight train:

BUT I still detest the way that I look in a bathing suit without something around my waist.

I can't break through my max and have been feeling shi-tay about it

We can't really compare ourselves to other people, we just have to compare ourselves to our previous selves. I don't look good in a bikini yet, but I look way better than I did 5-10 years ago.

I was so mad after I failed (the lift) the second time I punched the side of the rack.

How about we replace those with:

I don't care if my thighs are big, I still look shmexy in my bathing suit.

Damn, I bench 185 and some day I'll bench even more.  Strong pecs, ftw.

I look way better than I did 5-10 years ago.

After I failed the lift the second time, I realized it just wasn't my day. I'll get it next time.

xoxo

P.S. In case you're wondering, I didn't break any bones in my hand. I punched the rack with the side of my fist. Ahem.

in which andrea passes the nsca-cpt and does something new

Well, yes, my scores were "on hold" till I provided proof that I am in fact certified in adult, child, and infant CPR and AED, but having taken care of that little administrative detail and waited the requisite 5 to 7 business days after such proof was received and accepted, I came home yesterday after a somewhat annoying and pretty tiring day to find my results in my e-mail inbox.  I assume my esteemed blog guests all have above average reading comprehension and the detail orientedness to actually look at and process blog titles, so you know how this came out.  I got 115 questions right which apparently equals an 84.  That's a solid B. Not bad for an old women in surgical menopause who probably forgets what she's had for breakfast a good four days out of seven, if you ask me.

Now if someone will just take pity on me give me a chance and hire me.

Besides the good news in my inbox yesterday, the tiring, annoying day wasn't a total wash in other ways either. Don't mean to suggest it was.  Other nice and/or interesting things happened.  I got a pedi.  My nails are now hot pink and ready for summer. Of course, it's supposed to rain most of the long weekend and be like 50 degrees tomorrow in particular, but if any sandal wearing weather should miraculously occur, my feet are ready!  And, more germane to this blog's purported topic, I tried a new exercise at the gym: seated good mornings.

That guy used a little more weight than me. Just, y'know, a few plates.

I looked considerably less shmexy than her doing mine.

But my ROM was way better than his. (My nose and forehead touched the bench. Go big or go home, muthafuckuhs.)

On the other hand, I did have to foam roll the hell outta my lower back this morning. Ahem.

xoxo

P.S. Administrative note: sorry about the extra commenting step, but I got a sudden influx of annoying blog spam and continually deleting it was too much of a pain in the ass.

news and reviews, pictorial edition

1.) The agony of defeat

I'm not the most rabid of hockey fans (as you may know, my poor abused heart belongs to the Red Sox) but that game last night was the best hockey game EVAH.  The images of Reimer lying on the ice after the winning goal were very poignant, though.

2.) Mirin' my cool shirt?

My friend Hammie designed it.  Check out her shop.  Her cartoons are great and her customer service is unparalleled.  When I mentioned that the original shirt I ordered was a bit snugger than I anticipated, she arranged for me to exchange it, even though I'd already worn it to the gym and sweated all over it.

3.) Hard decisions

I think it's awesome that Angelina came forth with the news she had a prophylactic double mastectomy after testing positive for the breast/ovarian cancer gene mutation.  Um, not that it's awesome that she had to have this major surgery, obviously.  Awesome that she was upfront about it and that her difficult decision may be encouraging to other women facing the same.

4.) my new favorite pants

Sometimes ridiculously expensive is well worth it.

5.) What I got for Mother's Day

I'd have asked for the super-cool, trendy $200 Beats ones, but my kid is poor.  Heh.  Seriously, I like these a lot.  Wore them lifting yesterday and was pumped not to have to keep popping an earbud back in between sets.

/too lazy to write a real post

xoxo

i have a problem with authority

I don't know if y'all believe in the Myers-Briggs, but I am an INTP.***

In case you do not feel like clicking on my link, let me quote from that source of unimpeachable knowledge, wikipedia:  "INTPs accept ideas based on merit, rather than tradition or authority. They have little patience for social customs that seem illogical or that obstruct the pursuit of ideas and knowledge."

Yes. That wraps up some of my more annoying personality traits in a nutshell and ties it with a pretty bow. I don't like stupid rules, kids. I will follow them if they make sense. I will follow them if my NOT following them will unduly inconvenience someone else. But when people try to make me follow rules I disagree with just because they're the rules, I bristle. And when people try to convince me their stupid rules do in fact make sense when clearly they're illogical, I kinda go insane. I know this is an unattractive quality in a mature adult human being. I just cannot fight it.

What's that got to do with this blog and its subject matter? Well. I may have mentioned before that I have, since sometime last summer, been absolutely devoted to squatting barefoot, or as I prefer to call it, monkey-footed. Sometimes I do this actually in my bare feet. Sometimes I do it in my grippy socks.  But being able to feel the floor through my feet has improved my performance so much that I really do not wish to wear my shoes in the power rack ever again.  Unlike many other things that are verboten in my gym--using cell phones, taking your children in the adult locker rooms, removing the connectors from the cable machines--there are no signs telling you to keep your shoes on. I am not the only sock squatter, not by a long shot, and for months I was never reprimanded, nor did I see anyone else reprimanded, for taking their shoes off in the rack.  Then maybe in February or so, one of the morning employees came up to me in between sets and told me I had to put my shoes on or he would get in trouble. Okay, fine. In my head, I christened him the Shoe Nazi and I stopped going to the gym before noon on any lower body days.  It annoyed me, but no, I didn't actually want him to get in trouble with his higher-ups for my disobeying the (non-posted) rule.****

Then just last week, in the middle of the afternoon, one of the (young) gym employees I am quite fond of approached me in between sets of box squats, literally blushing, and apologized for having to tell me, but...his boss had seen my bare feet and told him to make me put my shoes on. I felt so bad for the poor kid. I assured him I knew he was only doing his job, put my shoes back on, and called my squats for the day.  Next lower body day?  He was working again, so to avoid putting him in the awkward position of having to tell me again to knock my shiz off, I kept my shoes on to start.  He very sweetly came over and let me know that, uh, the coast was clear. Great!  Fast forward to this afternoon.  I wanted to squat again.  I figured it being Sunday afternoon, there'd be absolutely no one around who would care if I went money-feet.

I was wrong.

The Boss Lady herself was there and this time she gave me the scolding herself.  After somewhat patronizingly telling me that *she* used to power lift and thus understood why I wanted to do what I was doing, she told me I couldn't because I could drop a plate on my foot and the gym would be liable.  I rather sensibly (I thought) said that, um, I was inside the rack and thus that was impossible.  She started going on about how, well, if a plate fell off the bar into the rack... I refrained from asking her to explain how the laws of physics apparently don't apply in our gym. I did point out that I had the collars on the bar. She suggested I buy a pair of Vibrams. I did not ask how Vibrams would protect me from breaking a toe if those pesky laws of physics did stop applying. This is exactly the kind of thing that makes my brain explode and my blood boil. Don't give me bullshit reasons for your stupid rules that insult my intelligence. Tell me your insurance requires all the gym-goers wear shoes and Vibrams count as shoes. And then maybe I'll be a good girl and be inspired to buy some of these:

Meh. Tell me bullshit and all I was inspired to do was break my kneeling squat PR fueled by pissiness and then completely immaturely gloat on getting away with taking some ninja video of the high box step-ups I'm working on.

xoxo

***I'm a weak "T" however--I can make myself score as an INFP by answering just a few questions I'm iffy on differently. In practice, this means I'm a little more tactful and circumspect than stronger INTPs usually are. I went to massage school with a woman who was, I have absolutely no doubt, a strong INTP. She was always causing a ruckus by saying the things out loud that I was only thinking. I hearted her greatly.

****Well, there's a posted "proper athletic shoes" vs "street shoes" rule to keep people from lifting in work boots but nothing specifically says you have to keep your proper athletic shoes on

me n' the Glute Guy have words

I've read a lot of critiques of famous trainers' new books lately.  Having high profile fitness experts suggest that an 800 calorie a day diet is a reasonable way to lose weight for one's wedding or that us ladiez pick a kettlebell that weighs "as much as our purse" is certainly discouraging.  I can't say for certain that if I were offered a bunch o' money to write a book that sells out like that I wouldn't do it, but I'd like to think I wouldn't.  I'd like to think I'd stick to my own message, the one that says no matter how small or overweight or old or out-of-shape or weak you start out and no matter the fact that you possess a vagina, you CAN, with work, lift heavy-ass shit and lifting that heavy-ass shit will change your body in ways that you will most probably like and, more importantly, it will make you feel like a superhero.

It is with sadness that I must then take huge issue with some things in the fitness book I am currently reading, Strong Curves by Bret Contreras and Kellie Davis.  Mr Contreras is well known in the weightlifting/fitness community as The Glute Guy.  I don't know how one sets out on the path to become the world's most renowned expert on, y'know, asses--even after reading Mr Contreras' explanation in the book, I'm still kinda bemused--but, hey, someone's gotta do it. And I'm sure if she's alive, his mom is very proud. Anyway, I'm reading along and while I have my disagreements with some of what the book is selling me--it's a little tilted towards the "clean eating" philosophy that's so trendy and popular and it claims repeatedly that following the book's program will cause you to lose fat and build muscle at the same time which, no--I am mostly enjoying it. If anything, at least it has caused me to go around flexing my glutes during all my ADLs for two days in an attempt to keep them activated. I'm sure that's worth the $9.99 I paid.  (If only for the entertainment value I'm sure it affords anyone who notices me doing it.)

Sadly, I then happen across this little gem: "A woman with a slender upper body and shapely legs may never be able to do a chin-up no matter how lean and strong she gets."

Excuse me, but BULLSHIT.

There is no excuse for a normal-weight woman who strength trains (and has no orthopedic issues that make the movement impossible or unwise, of course) to be unable to do *one* chin-up. Note: we are not talking about an overweight person for whom bodyweight exercises are naturally much harder. Note: we are not talking about your average woman who does not lift weights. We are not talking about 25 chin-ups in a row or 5 sets of 10 or even one wide grip pull-up (which is much harder). We are talking about *one* chin-up, done by a lean woman who has purportedly been working on her strength. To tell that woman that, oh, it's okay, she may never do that one chin-up no matter how much she works is ridiculous. Ridiculous and patronizing. Ridiculous, patronizing, and UNTRUE.

This whole thing makes me capsy.

I prefer Nia Shanks' view that, hell, you can work your way up to handstand pushups and other crazy hard things and here's how... Because you may be a woman, but you're also a badass. Imagine my surprise when Mr Contreras refers to Ms Shanks in his book and calls her his dear friend.

I think she oughta have a talk with him.

Gah.

xoxo

a lesson i learned at least 15 years ago

...or Story Time with Andrea!

One of the formative experiences in my thinking about body image occurred some time in the late 90s/early 00s. Sorry I can't be more specific than that, but I'm old and the years just blend together. I do know this occurred on a Saturday afternoon because that is intrinsic to our story. So don't say I'm not giving you specific details like a good journalist. God.

Where was I? Okay.  I was at Haymarket in Boston, waiting for a bus.  It was late afternoon, maybe 4-ish? As I stood there, just people watching***, two Hispanic women, probably in their early 30s, came up from the subway. One was unremarkable enough that I don't remember anything about her appearance other than that she was around the same age as her companion. The other was barely 5 foot tall and--I'm not excellent at guessing weight but--well over two hundred pounds. Perhaps 250.  Short and heavy enough that she had that look some people do of being completely round. Now, that is not that remarkable. There are short people and tall people, fat people and skinny people.  All kinds to make a world, as my mom would say.

What was remarkable was how this lady was attired: a black lycra tube dress that barely covered either her cleavage or her butt. I watched her and her friend walk past me and across the street with a mixture of fascination and horror. First of all, there was this sense that just one tiny wrong move and I was going to see a boob pop out or, on the other end, (as Patsy Stone would say) "...and all the world's your gynecologist." Secondly, I couldn't help my bemusement (ignorant, I know now) that tube dresses came in that size. Finally? Where on earth were they going dressed like that at 4pm on a Saturday? This was a club/party/big date dress if I ever saw one.

^^^Tube dress example for any male readers who stop by. (I learned my lesson after the time 2 out of 3 male friends had *no* idea what a romper is.)

But after a few seconds, those feelings slipped away and what I realized was that this woman--chatting animatedly and smiling with her friend--not only had no feelings of self-consciousness about her body, she also gave off a vibe of being supremely confident. This was not the kind of woman who dressed scantily in some kind of desperate attempt to gain attention. There was nothing about that in her body language.  She just seemed happy and comfortable and like she and her friend were having just the best day. And to me, it seemed like she obviously felt hot in her own skin, any deviance between her own body and societal/media norms notwithstanding.  And it occurred to me that as much as this woman almost certainly felt hot and beautiful, she most likely had a husband/lover/several suitors who thought she was sexy as hell too.  I dunno why I made that leap. In retrospect, it seems pretty unfeminist of me, this idea that one has to have the approval of a partner to feel beautiful. Nevertheless, it all made this sort of huge impression on me. It was maybe the first time I was able to divorce in my mind that someone had to look the way society tells us is ideal in order to feel beautiful or to have other people find them sexy.  This woman was sexy.

Even if I disagree with her fashion choices.

All this bubbled up in my memory today after reading a comment on someone else's blog, taking issue with a fitness author saying that after you followed her plan you would be "hot and confident" and therefore implying that as you are now you should probably be insecure and ashamed of yourself. To which I also say bah! And feh! And other interjections that end in h. The lady in the tube dress taught me you don't have to be conventionally beautiful to be confident but that being confident probably makes you hot. Pretty good for being in my field of vision for 90 seconds and never speaking to me, huh?

xoxo

***see? it was a long time ago back when our primitive cell phones did not allow us to peruse the internet at all times

blogging news flash

Posting semi-horrifying semi-dressed photos of yourself will cause people to unfollow you. Who knew?

Sorry.

It's just hilarious, and I am glued to my TV watching CNN because a.) holy crap! and b.) I was supposed to do some work in Brighton today but since the city is on lockdown, that's not happening. So I've got too much time on my hands. Let's see what else I can come up with to alienate my few readers today!

xoxo