Friday, July 06, 2007

I must confess.

I have a confession to make. And some of you might like me less for it and I don't care.

When it comes to my body and my big ideal dream I want to be hard core ass kicking. I want this:



I am totally serious. The first time I saw Linda Hamilton in the Terminator (whichever one it was) I was like, YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH.

So I did what any determined person would do and started training. I did. Endurance, weights, crunches, lunges protein blablablabla. I was very hardcore. I discovered several things on the way.

The most important thing I learned was that my body was just not meant to look like that. No matter how much I worked out (an insane more than 4 hours daily at one point) no matter what supplement or shake I consumed my body was not cut out for that. To tell you the truth I was fucking heart broken. After thousands of hours, thousands of crunches and hard work, I did not have a six pack. I did not look like I would rip your arm off and beat you to death with it.

I looked more or less the same. Less jiggly in places but mostly the same.

And most shocking I felt like shit. I had gotten so into being "healthy" that I stopped listening to the distress signals my body was putting out in waves. I became very enmeshed in the idea that I was being good and moral, that I was becoming a better person because the size of my ass was shrinking.

Nevermind that my knees would swell up and hurt so bad I'd lay in bed crying because I couldn't sleep. Nevermind that I was seriously constipated all the time because I'd cut so much out of my diet and my bowels don't work great anyway. Nevermind that I was constantly pissed off and fucking hungry.

Nevermind that my doctor absolutely did not approve of what I was doing.

I thought I was doing what you're "supposed" to do.

I thought that even though I'd actually previously been pretty happy with my body that I wasn't supposed to because yes, I was fat. That was not a pleasant time in my life.

Fast forward 8 years or so and what do I find that makes my wee heart go pitter pat?

MMA (Mixed martial arts) and UFC style fighting for women.

Oh. My. Merciful. Heavens.

I want to do that so bad. BAD. But, my body does not want.

I think, oooh muy thai my knees swell up in anticipation and say, "bitch please."

And to tell the truth I am kind of really disappointed and sad. I could try, I could. But given how my body is reacting to my current exercise program of daily walks, yoga a few times a week and an attempt at belly dance I know what would happen. I'd hurt myself. Potentially badly hurt myself.

And it's not even about fat. It's not a part of a desire to be thinner. No. I want to kick ass. Don't read this bit if you're squeamish.

I want to break someone's nose with my elbow. I want to kick someone in the head hard enough to knock them out. I want to throw a punch that'll make someone see Tweety Birds. I want to fight. Not street brawl but organized ass kicking.

There I said it.

I realize though that I can't. And I have to accept that.

I am still sad though.

Instead of ass kicking I am convincing myself that ass shaking is a healthier and less inclined to fuck up my body more passtime. The jury is still out.

This is yet another time I really have to struggle not to fight my body. And I have a hard time not doing that. I'm working on it though.

My knees have not been in good shape even with the good weather so I'm afraid I will probably wind up spending the winter medicated. Suck but whatever.

In essence for once this isn't about food or fat or thin or whatever.

The fact remains that there are just some things my body will not do no matter what. I can accept that.

Or at least try to.

Homo Out.

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2 comments:

Cassandra said...

Oh darling - been there done that. Kickboxing makes me pant with lust. I LOVE my workboots and the way they make me walk with a swagger even if I've got my black lace skirtling on over them. I feel your pain. Literally. * hugs *

Nudiemuse said...

Workboots+lace=The.Hot.Sex right thurr.

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