"Fit is the new skinny"
"Strong is the new skinny"
How the fuck is this different? I don't see the amazing new motivation that some women do. I see another way to be judged on what I look like, not on what I do. The sayings are often printed on pictures of lean, somewhat muscular women. You know, another body type to be compared to.
This is no different than the Victorian Era and restrictive corsets to achieve the tiniest waist possible. The 1920's and the flappers binding their chests to achieve a washboard look. The 1950's and the return to the hourglass figure perfectly coifed hair. The 1960's with its Twiggy thin ideal. The 1990's D cups and no body fat.
So how is this different again? I hate to burst the bubble of the believers but it isn't. You may be striving for a different physical ideal but you are still allowing yourself to be judged on your appearance not on your accomplishments.
I get that things like "She does 30 unbroken pull-ups, do you?" isn't as catchy but isn't an accomplishment better to brag out? Fit? Strong? Prove it. Tell me what you can do. How fast can you run? How much can you lift? What is your sport? Your skill? Because the fact you look cute in a picture doesn't tell me shit. It shows me that as a women I am still being held to a physical standard. Nothing else.
Let's take this one step further. What have these women done? Are they scholars? Innovators? Artists? Musicians? Humanitarians? What have they contributed to society? Not everyone is an athlete. Not everyone will look like some standard. And no standard is any better than its predecessor.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Clarity comes from strange places
My moment of clarity came not too long after I woke up this morning and I saw a video my friend Lisa posted. A supposed "female fitness motivation" video. My response was swift and violent. With the exception of DLB, every woman in it appeared to be trying out for a staring role in a low budget porn. Fuck that shit. That is not at all what I am into. Working out in a Victoria's Secret add two size bra? Even in a photo shoot scenario that is just bullshit. Thanks but no. I'll click on over to Lift Big Eat Big and check out women that move more weight than I do. Now that is motivating. Someone who weighs ten pounds more than I and squats double? Now you have my attention. I want to do THAT.
Maybe it was just the video. Or the video and all my introspection leading up to last night's blog. Or some epiphany that happened laying in bed until 10:30 am because Squishy was using me as a pillow and I couldn't disrupt his beauty sleep. But no matter what it was, I know what I need to do. And that is focus on training and being strong. Sure, the random pictures of "fitness models" that I come across will be my nemesis on occasion like the waif fashion models are for so many but I can accept that.
The concept of diet is being replaced with the concept of nutrition. What do I need to eat to support my training goals? I know the foods my body reacts poorly to - pasta, bread, anything starchy, sugar, fruit. Which leaves protein, fat and that weird green shit that people seem to like. Simple enough right? Keep the portions in line and I can easily drop that 10 pounds in a few weeks with the workouts I have been doing.
Right now I have a three day plan which I am loving and will stick with until my Vegas trip at the end of March. Then I will switch to a four day plan that I have ready to go. Either way I have flexibility on lifting days - a few in a row, every other, rest day can go anywhere it is needed. Logical and easy.
Today I also realized my bench and overhead press are back to where they were pre-shoulder injury. My bench is actually better as I can push out more sets/reps at the same weight. Now the real work begins - the slow and steady to far bigger numbers. As long as each workout gets me another rep or 5 more pounds I will be satisfied.
I haven't been this at peace and excited to train again in awhile. Too bad tomorrow is a rest day.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
To My Previous Trainers....
Thank you.
I've worked with a few people over the past five years and not one I regret. Each taught me something different, a lesson to take forth in my fitness journey. I've been spending a lot of time these last few months trying to find my way - what is the right approach? the right goal? what really matters? do I want to compete in any way? or is stress relief the purpose? And most importantly, does it make me happy?
Sully taught about about dealing with my imbalances, broken parts and the importance of mobility work. He also introduced me to ART (active release therapy) which is at least 75% responsible for keeping my parts working when they don't want to. Every time something acts up I go back to these basics. Of course the actual movements have changed over the years has things have healed, imbalances have gotten better and new injuries have happened but these basics keep me lifting.
Tres had a tough job - getting my diet resistant ass in a blinged out bikini on a stage. As someone hat didn't crack 100 pounds to my mid 20's diet was not something I was familiar with. Neither was the early 30's weight gain but that is for later in the blog. I learned how my body reacted to diet changes. I learned just as much about lifting - intensity, ordering exercises, selecting exercises and pushing myself in different ways. I now know that if I lift less weight or hit few reps, it doesn't mean the world is ending, it was just a day and move on.
LA made me think. I never put any thought into how everything impacts everything else - life, work, workouts, nutrition, etc. Whether we want to admit it or not, everyone lets one thing effect the other. I always thought/wanted to compartmentalize and was forced to realize I didn't do a very good job. Thinking about all facets of life in relation to each other wasn't easy at first but now I do it. Sure I still have a shitty day and go shove a cheeseburger in my face but at least I see the relationship and accept it.
Teena and Scott at Crossfit renewed my lost love for barbell work and handstands. A funny combo I know but it is what it is. My squat depth improved. I started doing presses again and have no clue why I stopped. I realized rowing is not a bad form of cardio. I also realized that one of the biggest values of my workouts was they were my personal time and that the group setting is not for me. I like my music and to just lift without worries about others or time constraints or running or burpees. Barbell work is once again the foundation of every workout I do and always will be.
What I still don't know is what end result I am after.
I last competed in figure in August 2010 and did not like the way I looked. I was skinny. Scrawny even. The exact look I spent so much of my life hating. This time I dieted to get it as opposed to shoving in enough food for ten people and not being able to gain weight. I stayed within 15 pounds of that for a year while trying to put on muscle then gained a good bit of weight in various forms in the fall 2011 and winter 2012. Then I thought I would diet down to compete again. I started the diet. I made it a few weeks. I cheated. A lot. I had a meltdown. I ate a few burgers. Drank a lot of wine. I eventually said FUCK THIS and that is when I tried Crossfit. After I realized that wasn't my thing I went into mass gain mode. I lifted and ate and lifted and ate and lifted and ate. I did nothing that looked like cardio. I fought a shoulder injury. I pushed. I spent a fortune on ART. I grew. Guys I haven't seen in months notice and comment about my back being bigger. I am finally not scrawny, not skinny, I have a lot of hard fought for muscle mass. I love working out again.
Part of me is ok with the extra fat this process put on. Dressed properly all anyone notices is my ghetto booty and boobs anyway. Who cares if my stomach is flat? But I also realize I am pushing what I feel is acceptable appearance wise. Another part of me wants to lean out - see the true results of all this hard work. But then I diet for a week, look down at my arm at the wrong angle and freak the fuck out because it looks scrawny. It's not. Trust me. But that panic is still there. I'm not even thinking about stepping on stage at this point. Just leaning out. Maybe 20 pounds? Maybe less? Maybe more? Just get the stomach close to flat. Shoot for this look I have in my mind that isn't really quantifiable. Lean out, build up again a little smarter this time. Then life happens. Like this week. The perfect storm of drama, bullshit and frustration ending with my last 3 meals being fried chicken, cheeseburgers and chinese food. There is a beer next to me.
Somehow I need to get myself to buy in to leaning out. It isn't so bad. Losing 10 pounds won't kill me or make me skinny. I should be able to do that. Then take it 5 pounds at a time. Mentally I think I have a number in my mind of a happy place - the proverbial middle ground between stage weight and where I am. Bikini ready. Muscles intact. Now to get the brain on board. Easier said than done.
I've worked with a few people over the past five years and not one I regret. Each taught me something different, a lesson to take forth in my fitness journey. I've been spending a lot of time these last few months trying to find my way - what is the right approach? the right goal? what really matters? do I want to compete in any way? or is stress relief the purpose? And most importantly, does it make me happy?
Sully taught about about dealing with my imbalances, broken parts and the importance of mobility work. He also introduced me to ART (active release therapy) which is at least 75% responsible for keeping my parts working when they don't want to. Every time something acts up I go back to these basics. Of course the actual movements have changed over the years has things have healed, imbalances have gotten better and new injuries have happened but these basics keep me lifting.
Tres had a tough job - getting my diet resistant ass in a blinged out bikini on a stage. As someone hat didn't crack 100 pounds to my mid 20's diet was not something I was familiar with. Neither was the early 30's weight gain but that is for later in the blog. I learned how my body reacted to diet changes. I learned just as much about lifting - intensity, ordering exercises, selecting exercises and pushing myself in different ways. I now know that if I lift less weight or hit few reps, it doesn't mean the world is ending, it was just a day and move on.
LA made me think. I never put any thought into how everything impacts everything else - life, work, workouts, nutrition, etc. Whether we want to admit it or not, everyone lets one thing effect the other. I always thought/wanted to compartmentalize and was forced to realize I didn't do a very good job. Thinking about all facets of life in relation to each other wasn't easy at first but now I do it. Sure I still have a shitty day and go shove a cheeseburger in my face but at least I see the relationship and accept it.
Teena and Scott at Crossfit renewed my lost love for barbell work and handstands. A funny combo I know but it is what it is. My squat depth improved. I started doing presses again and have no clue why I stopped. I realized rowing is not a bad form of cardio. I also realized that one of the biggest values of my workouts was they were my personal time and that the group setting is not for me. I like my music and to just lift without worries about others or time constraints or running or burpees. Barbell work is once again the foundation of every workout I do and always will be.
What I still don't know is what end result I am after.
I last competed in figure in August 2010 and did not like the way I looked. I was skinny. Scrawny even. The exact look I spent so much of my life hating. This time I dieted to get it as opposed to shoving in enough food for ten people and not being able to gain weight. I stayed within 15 pounds of that for a year while trying to put on muscle then gained a good bit of weight in various forms in the fall 2011 and winter 2012. Then I thought I would diet down to compete again. I started the diet. I made it a few weeks. I cheated. A lot. I had a meltdown. I ate a few burgers. Drank a lot of wine. I eventually said FUCK THIS and that is when I tried Crossfit. After I realized that wasn't my thing I went into mass gain mode. I lifted and ate and lifted and ate and lifted and ate. I did nothing that looked like cardio. I fought a shoulder injury. I pushed. I spent a fortune on ART. I grew. Guys I haven't seen in months notice and comment about my back being bigger. I am finally not scrawny, not skinny, I have a lot of hard fought for muscle mass. I love working out again.
Part of me is ok with the extra fat this process put on. Dressed properly all anyone notices is my ghetto booty and boobs anyway. Who cares if my stomach is flat? But I also realize I am pushing what I feel is acceptable appearance wise. Another part of me wants to lean out - see the true results of all this hard work. But then I diet for a week, look down at my arm at the wrong angle and freak the fuck out because it looks scrawny. It's not. Trust me. But that panic is still there. I'm not even thinking about stepping on stage at this point. Just leaning out. Maybe 20 pounds? Maybe less? Maybe more? Just get the stomach close to flat. Shoot for this look I have in my mind that isn't really quantifiable. Lean out, build up again a little smarter this time. Then life happens. Like this week. The perfect storm of drama, bullshit and frustration ending with my last 3 meals being fried chicken, cheeseburgers and chinese food. There is a beer next to me.
Somehow I need to get myself to buy in to leaning out. It isn't so bad. Losing 10 pounds won't kill me or make me skinny. I should be able to do that. Then take it 5 pounds at a time. Mentally I think I have a number in my mind of a happy place - the proverbial middle ground between stage weight and where I am. Bikini ready. Muscles intact. Now to get the brain on board. Easier said than done.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
The problem with blogging....
In order to blog, one must be able to type. In order to type, one needs two functioning hands. Ok, well you can type with 3 fingers and a thumb on the other hand as I recently have witnessed at work but really, that shit ain't efficient. After spraining my wrist just over two weeks ago. I couldn't type. So no blogging. I even took just over a week off from the gym. It sucked.
I lifted Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday this week - easing back in slow to not piss my wrist off. I was pretty successful until Thursday when I couldn't deadlift after squatting pissed it off. I guess I should have thought of that whole bending back thing before I started and thrown someone off a leg press.
The week was pretty uneventful. Sunday I lifted at 6:30 am after getting up at 4:15 am to go to the airport. That was not cool. The empty gym was awesome but I didn't even have the energy at that time in the morning to ask the other dude lifting why he had to be on the rack next to me, why not leave an empty rack in the middle or why he couldn't stop staring. In reality I should have snapped on him but yea, it was 6:30 am and I was lucky to be upright and able to add the plates up.
Tuesday I went to the Y. I do not like lifting there but I wanted to get it over with early and didn't want to deal with the crowds. The vibe there sucks. There was only one other person really lifting and I know this because I had to keep snapping at the same dude to re-rack his weight. But the really annoying part was the jackassery exhibited by the women in the place. Ladies, doing 4 variations of leg lifts and donkey kicks for an hour will not fix your flat ass. I don't care what magazine you read it in. You look stupid and sound stupider having this conversation loud enough the whole room can hear it. The Y is staying on emergency use only status.
Thursday was a kind of surreal day at the gym. I get there on the early side and 2 of the 4 racks are open. The other two are being used properly. I was happy to have a rack, in the corner, far away from the soon to happen stampede of zumba women trying to get an inner thigh machine or sit-up machine. And there is a big ass bowl of chalk. Yes chalk. That shit that could have helped me not sprain my wrist. Same shit I get yelled at for bringing in. Interesting. It was actually a nice change of pace to have people that knew what they were doing around me for once.
I also started dieting this week which apparently has coincided with Girl Scout Cookie Season. Nothing good can come of this. Every store I went to today had the sugar crack out front. Thin Mints by the case. So yummy. So good with coffee. So not happening on a low carb diet. They ask and ask and ask. I'm not buying. Anyway, I already have a dealer. I need supplies for my refeed.
I lifted Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday this week - easing back in slow to not piss my wrist off. I was pretty successful until Thursday when I couldn't deadlift after squatting pissed it off. I guess I should have thought of that whole bending back thing before I started and thrown someone off a leg press.
The week was pretty uneventful. Sunday I lifted at 6:30 am after getting up at 4:15 am to go to the airport. That was not cool. The empty gym was awesome but I didn't even have the energy at that time in the morning to ask the other dude lifting why he had to be on the rack next to me, why not leave an empty rack in the middle or why he couldn't stop staring. In reality I should have snapped on him but yea, it was 6:30 am and I was lucky to be upright and able to add the plates up.
Tuesday I went to the Y. I do not like lifting there but I wanted to get it over with early and didn't want to deal with the crowds. The vibe there sucks. There was only one other person really lifting and I know this because I had to keep snapping at the same dude to re-rack his weight. But the really annoying part was the jackassery exhibited by the women in the place. Ladies, doing 4 variations of leg lifts and donkey kicks for an hour will not fix your flat ass. I don't care what magazine you read it in. You look stupid and sound stupider having this conversation loud enough the whole room can hear it. The Y is staying on emergency use only status.
Thursday was a kind of surreal day at the gym. I get there on the early side and 2 of the 4 racks are open. The other two are being used properly. I was happy to have a rack, in the corner, far away from the soon to happen stampede of zumba women trying to get an inner thigh machine or sit-up machine. And there is a big ass bowl of chalk. Yes chalk. That shit that could have helped me not sprain my wrist. Same shit I get yelled at for bringing in. Interesting. It was actually a nice change of pace to have people that knew what they were doing around me for once.
I also started dieting this week which apparently has coincided with Girl Scout Cookie Season. Nothing good can come of this. Every store I went to today had the sugar crack out front. Thin Mints by the case. So yummy. So good with coffee. So not happening on a low carb diet. They ask and ask and ask. I'm not buying. Anyway, I already have a dealer. I need supplies for my refeed.
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