God, this AGAIN?
Whoo! On a whim, i pulled off my glasses and did my first totally unsupported head stand, right in my home office, on the blue green shag carpet. I've been doing yoga for +8 years, and working on the headstand for easily 3 years. I've been doing wall supported ones until early this year, when I have been managing to do them unsupported, but with a wall right there in case - and I've needed it. (Five minute headstand? Yeah, slipping off balance is quite likely. A foot tap to the wall and back up, but still. Knowing that you can't flip over forward is comforting.) So I just did it! Just, you know, because.
Yoga is great. It's one of the few areas of my life that has defined progress. I mean, when I started, I couldn't touch my toes. Too many years of competitive swimming as a kid made for super tight hamstrings. Now? Well. Now I can wrap my hands under my feet without even warming up. And, of course, do headstands, handstands, crazy back bridges, strange balancing poses, and so much more. Love.
And yet. I fight with this body so much. I fight my love of exercise with my love of food. I struggle with my weight, with my body, with my self image. According to my BMI, (a system I call TOTAL BULLSHIT on), I'm obese. I've lost 5 pounds recently, and am still obese. I wear a size 10-12 pants, and like, 14 or more on top, due to the Boobs. I work out on average of 7 times a week. I do cardio and weights at work, yoga and meditation in the evenings and on my Fridays off, and go to the gym with Erin on weekends. I hike, snowboard and cross country ski. My body is strong and powerful, and while I may carry too much fat around my torso, you should see my arms. Ripped. I do not muscle like a girl. I just don't. That one summer I worked for the city, setting up 20 foot tents for the city, I had 17 inch biceps - 17 inches of solid muscle arms. Most women can't do that with steroids. I work with a woman who is the international gold medal winner or whatever in power lifting. Her arms are like, half of mine. (She could kick my ass in a second - that's not the point. And she's totally not on steroids. The point is I am bulky muscled in a way that most women can't ever be.) I was in class earlier this week, doing lunges or leg lifts or something, and I was watching the muscles on my legs ripple as I worked.
I am strong. I am fit. I am fat, by some fairly arbitrary standard. Some meaningless number that has no bearing on how I feel, or how I live my life. With John I climb mountains. I am neither defined nor particularly limited by my adipose tissue. I eat fairly healthily, and my doctor has made no complaint about my weight. (Actually, I don't have that much of a choice. My body rejects most daily and fatty food and pretty much everything greasy. Pizza is my personal digestive enemy.) My cholesterol and blood pressure are perfect.
So why do I feel the need to say this over and over to myself? Why do I beat myself up that my attempts to lose weight are far slower than I want? Why do I obsess about something so fucking inane? I mean, my weight? Can I be more cliché? Why not focus on my anxiety about the wedding (not the marriage), or the whole he's-been-extended-to-December making 2008 the year of Home Alone, or my inability to keep this too-large-for-one-person-house clean? Or plan my trip at the end of the month for Dubai and Oman? I mean, why not spend my mental energy in a place where it might do me some good? Or at least go do another dozen kick ass yoga poses until I feel good about this body of mine?
Yeah. That's a good plan. Eka Pada Urdhva Dhanurasana it is.
Labels: body, wedding
Probably proof that I should pay more attention to the world
I was at the gym today after work, and I was there for almost an hour before my stunning revelation. I normally go on weekends, often with Erin, or in the morning on my Fridays off. I noticed the gym was pretty busy, but it took almost a whole hour for me to realize that it probably wasn't because it was a week night - it was because it was January 2nd, and they all probably had freshly keen New Year's Resolutions.
Fuck. Some days I swear I am living in a haze of my own tunnel vision. I just wanted to work out because my work fitness classes are on hiatus. Sigh.
Labels: body, duh
Good thing I slept all vacation
Man, I am so tired I don't know how I'm going to get to work tomorrow. Saturday night, at the resort in the Dominican Republic, I ate something that really didn't agree with me, so I didn't get to sleep until after 3:00 am, then woke by 9:30am. So that's 7 hours. Sunday night - we got back to town at 2am, and it wasn't till 3:30 am that I was in bed, and I woke at 6:30 am to go be sick some more and couldn't get beck to sleeo before I had to wake at 7:00 am for work. So that takes us to 10 hours. I had a one hour nap after work, so that's 11. Monday night, New Year's, we stayed up accidentally until 6:00 am, and I woke at 10:00 because the bedroom I was in didn't have curtains and I couldn't sleep through the light, so that takes me to 15 hours. 15 hours in the last 4 days. I personally prefer at least 7 on a week night, and 10 or more on a weekend if I can.
Probably explains why I feel like shit today, eh?
Wishing I had time to nap, but have the big family New Year's Day function, and have to make some food, and should probably start to empty the suitcases that are sprawled all over my floor. After all, I have to be packed completely for the next trip in 9 days.
New Year's Eve is lonely when you don't have someone to kiss when the fireworks go off.
Labels: body, grown ups, holidailies, solo year, vacation
2007 in Review
I did this last year too. I like these - it makes for interesting perspective.
1. What did you do in 2007 that you'd never done before?
Supported my partner fleeing the country for a year. Got mildly addicted to exercise. Figured out that exercise makes my depression lift more easily. Joined a gym. Took part in a psych study. Took a university night class. Booked my first flight out of this hemisphere. Paid off all our debts (excepting of course the mortgage, but making huge headways on that as well).2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn’t make New Year’s resolutions last year, I made a 25 in 25 list, and did very well on it. I plan to (belatedly) do a 26 in 26 list. 3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Darren’s sister did – he’s an adorable baby. The soft spot on his head freaked John out a lot.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
Thankfully, no.
5. What countries did you visit?
The States (Idaho, Utah, Wyoming and Montana) and the Dominican Republic.
6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?
Less grief. No stupid drama. No family vacations. *grin* No fucking mice in the house.
7. What date(s) from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
October 13th – the day John left.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Coping with the above with far more composure than anyone expected – myself included.
9. What was your biggest failure?
You know, that’s a tough one. I don’t think I really failed at anything this year. I mean, I haven’t been a total success or anything, but to me, to have failed carries a tone of not doing my best. I mean, I failed to learn to do an upside down flip called the helicopter at my pole dancing class, but I tried really hard. I bruised ribs, feet, ass, hip bone, and tail bone. Eventually I quit trying to do it, but I don’t really care. I tried my best, and it didn’t work. *shrug* I don’t feel bad about it. It just is – I can’t do that move – my weight distribution in my body is wrong for it, and I don’t care. I could do other stuff.
I failed at all sorts of things this year, like keep the house clean like a good little Martha would. But I don’t feel that I particularly failed at anything. On the whole, I gave things my best shot. And that’s good enough.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
We discovered that the constant colds and infections and feeling like crap was all based on a cat allergy gone out of control. No more visits to the in-laws, where the cat lives, no more being sick. (Okay, I’ve had a cold or two, but NOTHING like before.) I think I may have given myself another mild concussion. I have got to stop doing that.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
(I’m hoping) my flight to see John in the January. Otherwise, probably all the yoga 20 class passes.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Mine, dammit. My boyfriend of six years goes to the Middle East, and on the whole, I keep my shit together and don’t get depressed. I’m proud of myself, even if no one else is.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Okay, listen, I just got back from a seven day vacation with my parents and adult sister. That’s a hell of a loaded question.
Also, ***** for being an absolutely insane jerk about something so pathetically trivial – a reaction that will essentially taint our relationship for the rest of our lives.
14. Where did most of your money go?
The mortgage. Followed by vacations. Followed by groceries. Followed by a lovely piece of art.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
All the travel I’m getting to do.
Also, paying off all the money we owed John’s parents.
16. What song(s) will always remind you of 2007?
Jeremy Fisher – High School. Heard him at the Folk Fest this summer. I can listen to it over and over and over.
Wolf Parade – I’ll Believe Anything. Bought the album before the road trip this summer. Blasted the thing at loud volume while driving through America with a window open (because our little old car has a non functioning air conditioning system, and it was 100oF outside) and just feeling it.
Raine Maida – Yellow Brick Road. I like the version that’s on the radio, but we say him perform it in February, and it just blew both of us away.
Snow Patrol – pretty much the entire Eyes Open album. Love.
The Killers – Sam’s Town album. Awesome road trip music, blasting away, sometimes rolling up a window so that we can sing along with the lyrics.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. Happier or sadder? This time last year I was depressed. So I’m happier than that, but I’m also really lonely. It’s a draw, I think.
ii. Thinner or fatter? About the same weight – but far more ripped muscles.
iii. Richer or poorer? Richer. That is, when they actually remember to pay John.
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Laugh. Go to live theatre. Stood up for myself.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Complain. Cry. Whine. Feel sad. Feel self loathing.
20. How will you be spending Christmas?
In the Dominican Republic, without the love of my life, with my parents and sister. Drinking pina coladas, relaxing around the pool and getting a tan. Very relaxing.
21. Did you fall in love in 2007?
I am in love.
22. How many one-night stands?
None. But I am about to fly 11,268km for a booty call, so that’s got to earn me some trashy points.
23. What was your favorite TV program?
Heroes. Doctor Who. House. Grey’s Anatomy. Corner Gas. Little Mosque on the Prairies.
24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
No, I try not to hate anyone. I may loathe certain people extra much though.
25. What was the best book you read?
I’ve read around 183 books this year. Many were very good.
26. What were your greatest musical discoveries?
Wolf Parade. Jeremy Fisher. Final Fantasy. Silver Sun Pickups. Feist. Plain White Ts. I bought more cds this year at full price than I have in pretty much the rest of my life put together. Yay having a job.
27. What did you want and get?
Vacations. Love. Solid friendship. The confidence to strut my overweight ass around in short shorts and hooker heels and feel sexy doing it.
28. What was your favorite film of this year?
I really enjoyed Enchanted, The Bourne Identity, My Little Sunshine, and a few others.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 26. My parents took me out for Indian food at the Taj Mahal restaurant. A few days early I invited friends over and roasted my first turkey, and made them bring me food, potluck style.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Having John here for all of it. Also, not having the stupid drama with his father. Though if John had stayed, that never would have happened…
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?
Jeans are good. And I have enormous breasts that make shopping for clothes hard and really frustrating. I did start layering t-shirts…
32. What kept you sane?
John. Books. Strongbow. Gin. The promise of vacations.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Oh, let’s go with the perennial favorite Colin Firth.
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Not much this year. Pretty quiet on the Canadian front. Our civic election didn’t result in many surprises.
35. Who did you miss?
John. God, am I repetitive enough yet?
36. Who was the best new person you met?
Trisha, though work. Look, I’m making a new friend! How unlike me.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007:
You are stronger than you think.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
If I knew now what I knew then, I’d
Back up do it all again, I’d
Take a bow, take it real slow
Take a ride down the yellow brick road
Raine Maida - Yellow Brick Road
Also:
Give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Your blood
Your bones
Your voice
and your ghost
We've both been very brave
Walk around with both legs
Fight the scary day
We both pull the tricks out of our sleeves
Wolf Parade – I’ll Believe Anything
Labels: 25 in 25, body, boredom, family, holidailies, identity, meme, solo year, the boy, twisty, vacation, writing
Hasta luego
Sorry,
Holidailies, I'm off to the Dominican Republic for a week, and am unlikely to have
internet access while I'm there. I'll be back on the 31st!
Also, in good news? I still wear the same swimsuit size that I did in high school when I used to swim summer competitive. So while I may not love my body, at least it hasn't grown as much as I sometimes fear that it has. So
yay for small victories.
Happy Christmas, everyone. Be back in a week!
Labels: body, holidailies, vacation
Totally too much information
So I had a doctor's appointment yesterday. Which involved me lying back on the table, my feet in stirrups, being fitted for a diaphragm, of all things. I felt like I was in the wrong decade - if I wasn't for the blackberry of mine vibrating on the counter beaming me messages from John I might have been more seriously confused. First time the resident had ever fitted one. Today was even harder, trying to find a pharmacy that had one (total failure) or could order one (only had to drive totally across town).
It's the only logical thing, however. I went off the pill right after he left (and, TMI, have LOVED it. Apparently there had been some side effects that had slipped up unnoticed) and don't want to go back on it until I have to. Neither of us like the condoms much, thus pretty much leaving this as my only non-hormonal option. So - one easy choice and I ended up having a rather strange moment with two female doctors all up in my bits. Also, according to
Wiki, I'm on of .2% of (American) woman with one. Also, I had no idea that they were popular in the 30s and 40s! I thought they were from far later than that. So I guess it I should have been having a 40s moment, not a 40s moment.
Of course, today, in preparation for going to the Dominican Republic on Sunday, I got my first bikini wax, so that's got to put me in a far more current decade...
Labels: body, grown ups, holidailies
I'm totally going to read this in the morning and erase it all
Man, I got an actual compliment from my mother second hand through a business acquaintance today. And a direct compliment from her last week.
I, to be totally honest, don't even know how to react it's so unusual.
Seriously, how fucking sad is that? The only time in my life that, if this business contact who had no real reason to butter me up isn't lying, my mother has called me pretty. (My brow is furling as I type, to be honest.) You see, I'm neither, generally speaking, the pretty one or the smart one - that's Courtney. I'm, um, the practical, bookish one, I guess. (My sister is at UBC doing a double major in food science and the science of nutrition, thus totally clinching the smart one title.) And so then, to get this random comment, "oh, it's so nice to meet you, your mother talks so much about you, you're the pretty one, the smart one, the one who's doing so well" or whatever just floored me. I mean, my sister worked for them last summer, so they know the difference between us - she wasn't getting us mistaken.
I don't know. I'm 26 years old. I am deeply surprised that my mother would ever make such comments, and that's pretty sad, I think. A million years ago, as an angry, angsty teen, I wrote a scrawling diary entry in response to a dove ad, that she's never called me pretty (or derivative) and that on the few rare chances someone else did, she immediately shot them down. Forcefully. In front of me.
Look, I'm not the prettiest girl in the room, and I'll never be considered beautiful. But I'm cute - I'm the girl next door, and I am learning what looks best for me. I'll never be a true stunner, but I can turn a few heads if I try, you know? If you're anyone but John, I'm the girl you take home to your parents, the one whose face is always alive and generally laughing. I know I'm not court beauty, but nor am I bag over my head territory. My mother is unlikely to be jealous of my looks, or trying to stop me from getting an inflated head.
See, my mother is a pretty good mother, but the flaws are pretty glaring. We'll ignore the Darryl issue, and I'll mention that my mother is one of the most critical people I've ever met. Towards me, especially. Not towards my sister, of course, but at me. At about EVERYTHING. Two days after John left, I'm still a wreck, and my mother? She's all, "why did you wear you hair in pigtails to the airport? It looked bad. and that outfit! I saw you a few days later and you looked far skinnier. You need to learn to dress better, you know." Some shit like that. I wore pigtails because they make me look cute, and John likes them. They make me feel cute, too. The shirt was new, and I will ashamedly admit I haven't worn it again, and that's sad, because i bought it because I thought it looked good.
Fuck, whatever. Let me just say that I got two compliments from my mother this week, one direct and one via someone else this week, and my world feels like it's spinning slightly askew.
Labels: body, family, holidailies, twisty
Clearly not there yet
At what point does exercise become an addiction problem? Seriously? Today was fall renewal for my at work fitness classes. MWF is fitness combo - a variety of cardio and weight classes. T is ashtanga yoga/pilates class. Monday night is level 4.5 pole dancing class. Thursday night is intermediate (critical alignment) Iyengar yoga.
And I'm in the process of joining a gym.
Okay, sure, it's spalady, and it's less that $18/month including tax, but still.
And all this exercise, and I still weigh the same, and still measure the same. I could kick your head off, sure, but still.
Sigh.
Labels: body, identity, life
Best exercise class, ever. Hands down. (er, up. on the pole...)
There's nothing like the feeling of being able to awe an audience.
I was at my pole dancing class last night, where I am in the level 4 class - the first level 4 class taught in Calgary studio, ever. (In fact, we're on their case now about letting us know when they're going to be teaching the next level because we're all so damn impatient.) And, of course, being the most advanced makes us a little
showoffy in general. Though considered in the 5 inch heels and short shorts we dance in, showing off is not so surprising...
Our class starts at 7, and as we went in, the class that started at 6 was just finishing, doing community pole. The class that had been before us last week was the end of a level 3 class, so they didn't pay that much attention to us, other than to get a peak at what they'd be learning next time, and we only paid attention to criticise their shoes and lack of spirit. Well, this week, the class before us was the very first class of a level one class. *grin* You should have seen their faces as we dropped out pants and laced on the shoes and boots. Then, after they were finished on the poles, we started to show off, because we can. The group, as one, sat down on the benches and watched us for more than 10 minutes. Quite the little ego boost.
I've been doing these classes for 25 weeks, though the first 6 weeks were last fall in the old studio, and I have had my own pole to practice on for almost that long. So after some rough early patches (oh push-pull hand grip, how you hurt me! Between the forearm strain and the bruises on both knees from falling so many times, I thought I would never figure it out. How, it's practically second nature.), I've become pretty proficient. I can flip up by myself, while wearing the heavy shoes, without much effort. I've learned how to let go once I'm up there and to flip my torso around so i can walk out on my hands. (I just have to learn to let my thighs let go - the first time I tried I got stuck in mid air, upside down with my thighs sticking to the pole something fierce. I was by myself in the house, so there wasn't a spotter. I cursed the tearing flesh loudly the whole painful, slow way down.) I can do the flying spiral - though I did fly so much I um, damaged the paint on the wall of the studio last night, so maybe i don't have to fly that far out. I can do all sorts of spins and walks and I've only almost fallen on my face once. (I was trying a backwards showgirls, but didn't have the balance or the hands right, and barely caught myself as I fell face first towards the floor. Graceful and classy. We all had a laugh and kept going.
That's one of my favourite part of the classes. The 4 of the 5 of us have
been together since level 2, so we've bonded a certain
amount, and at least are comfortable enough to laugh around each other, as well as to cheer each other on. It's a good vibe.
Plus, it's the single most fun form of exercise, ever. (Okay, that I've tired, but
I've tried many things.) It's a great ab workout, and my arms are becoming crazy strong. Also, the heels make
everyone's legs and ass look great. The only trick is to never to stand too close to the mirrors and look at your thighs in the hot pants.
Cellulite happens, and dwelling on it will get no one anywhere. Much better to just admire your ass and leave it at that.
Labels: body, sports
John won't let me take them off
If I knew how good my new pole dancing short shorts (
http://www.lululemon.com/products/womens/bottoms/shorts_skirts/hot_hot_short) were going to look, I wouldn't have stalled on buying them and whinged so much about it. My goodness.
Labels: body, sports
Talk about a random entry
Things are better, I guess. Spring is coming and I can see daylight. I'm trying hard to keep active (all those endorphins) and it helps. I just don't want to talk about it - not even in my paper journal. I did the depressed teenage online diary, and it was boring then and it would be worse now. So enough of that.
I do have a small rant. (If depression is anger without the enthusiasm, I seem to be getting my enthusiasm back.) Shopping. I've never been a big shopper, not really. Honestly, I'm too cheap. I mean, it's clothes. An eighth of my wardrobe is still, at age 25,
handmedowns. Now, if we're talking grocery shopping? I'm a spender. If we're talking plays and concerts and the like? I am more than happy to pull out my credit card. But clothes? Eh.
I was in the mall today (I work downtown, over one of the many interconnected malls) buying a Flames
tshirt (John made me) and was walking back to my building, going, "well, I could shop. I guess. It looks like there are some sales on." And I just couldn't do it.
Part of it is good old fashioned self loathing - always made worse from seeing yourself naked in a small room with lousy lighting. The rest of it is the way clothes fit. Listen. I work out. A lot. I have killer legs - to the point where sometimes during fitness classes I find myself admiring my own legs in the mirror. Sure, they may still be too big for boots, but they are cut, with muscles showing distinctly against each other. I am strong, and shapely. I love them. I like my ass - again, all the working out and the cross country skiing and stuff. However. I'm a size 10 on the bottom. And on top? Well, I'll be conservative and say at least a 14. I'm a 36E. (My little sister, at 17 and a national level water polo player, was a 34G when she had her reduction. It runs in the family.) This makes it impossible to buy work shirts, because if I can do it up, it's cut way too big on the bottom, so I look fat. I feel fat, but I don't need clothes that make me look it. I can wear
tshirts, but between the dress code in my office and the fact that in
tshirts, all people can see of my is BREASTS, that's out. As for pants?
See the pockets? On the side like that? They look awful on me. I'm
pouchy in the stomach and it causes them to flare really unattractively. And for the last year, pretty much every single pair of pants I've tried on has that type of pockets. I cannot wait for it to warm up enough for skirt weather.
All this boils down to the fact that every time I try and buy clothes, I end up feeling despair. I mean, you kind of expect that with bra shopping. 36E. Think about it. That
shit's often so ugly it makes one contemplate suicide, but I've found by spending around $150 per bra, I can find stuff that fits, looks good and doesn't want to make me consider amazonian procedures. So once or twice a year, I grit my teeth, go to a high quality boutique with very helpful staff, and buy.
Bathing suits? Fine. I mean, it's spandex. It may not look great, but if the boobs are all out in front, shall we say, I'm okay. Again, no one can really see past them, and if I go the separate
tankini way, I can always make sure both parts fit. Plus, I spent 10 years competitive swimming, so the whole swim suit thing isn't a big deal for me.
Unlike pants. 6 months ago, I spend a week of lunch hours, plus an after work, trying on pretty much every pair of pants downtown. (Well, okay, only within the Core buildings, and not Holt
Renfrew.) And I couldn't find a single pair that looked good and didn't require dry cleaning.
Shirts are a crap shoot - I have found some that work, but it's rare. I even tried shopping in the plus size stores, but no luck - I'm too skinning for them. My breasts aren't, but my body is, and they just hang on me. It's like, I can't shop plus size, and I can't find much in the way of normal. It's aggravating. To the extreme. To the point where now, even the thought of going clothes shopping makes my breath catch in my throat.
And this is why I kind of look like a frump.
Labels: body, consumerism, life
One thing you can never say is that I don't try
I am not a graceful, coordinated woman. At all. By any stretch. Even if you use your imagination. And god knows, it's not from lack of trying. Before I explain my latest, let me give you a list of all the sports and fitness things and such that I have done, so you have an idea about what I'm actually like. (
Ie, interested but sadly hopeless.)
- Gymnastics, first three badges. Quit because I couldn't manage a headstand, ever.
- T-ball, one summer.
- Soccer, 2-3 years. being 10 and growing breasts and being expected to bounce the ball off my chest was kind of a deal breaker. That, and I even sucked at defense.
- Figure skating, 12 years. That includes Can-Skate, figure skating, and precision skating, which was my favourite. I was awful. I can't jump, my spins were wobbly, and my hamstrings were too tight for a good spiral. You notice that I tried for a long, long time though. I did once get a leadership award because I would play with the kids instead of practicing because it was way more fun, and I was all about the fun.
- Dance, 1 session. They didn't give my parents the brochure for the next session and my parents took the hint. I was maybe 5.
- Swimming, 10 years. 5 day a week, 4 months a year, meets every Saturday. I was bad. Bottom 5 aggregate placing every time for all those years. Thankfully, I stuck in it until I was 18 and finally got a gold medal at the Hanna meet because I was the only one who swam 4 events that day. I didn't care - I had that medal on my light for ages. Plus, of course, full swim lessons. Heck, I got my life guard certification.
- Fencing, 2 years. Killer shinsplints did me in. Too bad, because it was a ton of fun. Also, I was naturally slightly less hopeless at that than at other things.
- Diving, 2 years. I cannot do a fucking somersault if my life depended on it. So fucking embarrassing, as your Olympian coach tries to help you through it, and there is just no way. I could even manage inwards on occasion, but a simple flip? Sigh. That's why I quit, in the end. Sheer embarrassment and humiliation. Sure did love doing fall-ins off the 3 meter though.
- Fitness classes, mainly at work. Cardio classes and weightlifting classes. Plus 6 weeks of weightlifting in high school, from one of the swim moms working on certification. I don't have any particularly strong feeling about these - I do them because they are good for me and I don't have to think about them too much. I do hate step, though. Fucking step.
- Skiing. 5 days in grades 4, 5 and 6. One day in grade 7. One day last winter. Yesterday night. I have to say, I'm pleased I did so well, even occasionally managing parallel turns at COP last night. (COP is the in city ski hill for beginners, but my company rented it, so we went, and I tried skiing. It was okay.)
- Snowboarding, 4 years and counting. It sure is harder to learn (see learning how to fall without bouncing painfully, how to stand, how to turn backwards, how to flail down a black mogul run), but I like it better. Also, we get some wicked snow on some great mountains out here. But man, did I suck trying to learn this.
- Cross country. 1 day in grade 7, one day this winter. I may have cried the whole way down my first down hill stretch. Those skis! Are so long! And hard to maneuver! And really hard to stop! Plus, those confounding poles! Yeah, learning curve. Got much better, though.
- Pilates classes, occasionally. 2 months here, 3 months there. I'm strong, so enjoy them. I may be overweight, but I have killer core strength.
- Yoga, 7 years and counting. Hatha, Ashtanga, Bikram, Iyengar. Iyengar is my favourite. Bikram, done at insanely high temperatures and with endless repetition of the same asanas in the same order was not the thing for me. Ashtanga is too much like aerobics. I like aerobics. I like yoga. I just don't want them to be the same. Hatha is what I took in university. Iyengar is what I to now, and I adore it. It's the one that is based on perfecting the poses, and uses lots of props, and every single class is different. Currently, I'm taking critical alignment classes, which really focus on the spine, and all the tiny muscles that run along it. Challenging work, but I love the class and Kate's a great instructor. Plus, headstands. Still hate shouldstands, though. It took my three years to touch my toes. Now I can wrap my hands under my feet while I stand. Slow progress, but I'm getting there. Well, getting better, at any rate. There really isn't a destination.
So know that you've skimmed that long list, we can all agree that despite my total lack of grace and physical ease, at least it doesn't come from lack of trying. Heck, currently, I do pilates at lunch on Monday, cardio on Tuesday lunch and dance at night, cardio on Thursday at lunch and yoga at night, and Diva to the Core on the Fridays that we work. Plus all the skiing/boarding John can convince me to do. So I am physically active. (Which makes the fact that I cannot lose weight all the more annoying.)
On Tuesday nights, I do pole dancing. Yes. Brass pole, Marvin Gaye in the background, the whole bit. And I love it. I leave in such a good mood, with such a buzz. I'm surrounded, it feels, by all these 100 pound women who figure things out effortlessly. Which isn't true, exactly, but it feels that way. Any way, we were learning a new move last week, the ballerina. Which involves a push-pull hand grip; one hand pull you up from the top, the other hand as far down as you can reach, pushing you away from the pole. It's hard, and awkward, as you're pretty much holding your whole body with the top hand. Did I mention the pole? Is smooth? And my hand? Becomes slick every other spin because I sweat when I'm nervous? (And I have had wrist problems in the past, and am still getting my strength back.) And then you spin. No, and then they spin. I fall. On my knees. Over and over and over again. It's a charming shade of purple, know with green and black shades, about the size of my fist. Plus, I somehow cut my leg, and bruised the other foot. I refuse to let this thing beat me. I've been practicing, and have pulled it off a few times at home, but not consistently. But I will manage. Somehow. (I have to! In level three, you use just the top hand and hold the ankle with the lower one.) Just not, you know, gracefully.
Labels: body, life
