Tales from the Gym - I Am Fe-Male

Today was a big day for me.  It was the day I got to attempt my squat goal: 200lbs.  I said "When I am able to squat 200#, then I will get myself a 'Miss Fit' tank top."

...and so I am designing my tank top.

Whilst I was setting up for my last set, a gentleman came over to me and stared with great intensity into my eyes.  Quietly, he said, "You are a very strong woman..." And I just smiled and said, "Aww, anyone could lift this--it's only 200#!" (trying to be jocular).  He continued his serious gaze and said, "I could never lift that...my back wouldn't handle it!"

I didn't have the heart to tell him he couldn't do it because he didn't believe he could.  I did, however, say, "I'm sure you could with a little effort and training."

Because, seriously, if I can do it, anyone can do it.  I have back problems, knee problems, ankle problems...heck, my hips aren't even level let alone straight.  I probably shouldn't be able to squat 200lbs, but, like the bumble bee, I don't know that I can't.

So I did.

Someone asked once why I'd want to lift so much weight.  Presumably, the person thought I was doing it for attention (because, really, how many women do you see benching 115#, squatting 200#, and deadlifting 185#).  But, honestly, I enjoy it.  There's just something about the feeling of pushing yourself just that much harder to become harder, better, faster, stronger. 

I'm not trying to "beat the boys."  I'm trying to beat Me.  I'm trying to beat that little voice in my head that says, "You can't..."  Because you know what?  I'm a female.  And that means I CAN....because... y'know, I'm Iron Man*.




*That's Fe-Male.  Get it?  Fe = Iron?  Iron Man...?  IT'S SCIENCE!!!!

Day 10 - The Whole30 Program

Today was craptacular.  Actually, the past two days have been craptacular.  I found out that I need my undergrad transcripts, as well, for the doctorate program I'm trying to apply to; I screwed up my bench pressing; my back's killing me; and, I found out, today, my Valentine's Day plans are pretty much null and void.

AWESOME!

So, I made a conscious choice: I chose to drink 2 vodka tonics tonight.  The good news: I had two and it took me 6 hours to finish them.  Also...I didn't like the taste.

Why did I choose this?  Honestly?  Because I had about a pot and a half of coffee so I could make it through the day without the panic/anxiety attacks becoming overwhelming.  But, the news about my Valentine's plans pushed me over my ability to cope.

Here's a recap of my (not so great) eating today:

RECAP:

Breakfast: 3 eggs, scrambled with homemade pico de gallo

Lunch: ...what is lunch?  1 orange, 3oz of chicken, 1 handful of peanuts (it's what my boss had)

Dinner: Two chicken breast fillets, roasted beets, and sauted beet greens.  And a banana.

...and a pot and a half of coffee throughout the day, plus 2 vodka tonics.

Too frustrated/hurt/upset/whatever to go make my magnesium shake, so skipping it.  The alcohol will probably help me enough.  Tomorrow's another day...and it will be so much better.  Gym day!  Squats, deads, and push presses!

Tales from the Gym

I've decided I want to start adding more than just "Here's what I ate today!" posts to this thing.  So, here's a snippet of frustration from my gym time today, as referenced here:

Dear sirs at my gym,

I am a woman. I lift weights. I've been steadily increasing my weight since November. When I say, "I need a spotter," I mean I need you to stand there and cheer me on--"Push it! Push it! You can do it! What are you made of, little penises?! CRUSH IT!" This is what a spotter does. A spotter does not stand there, grab the bar and re-rack it after one or two reps because they think I can't do it. It's HEAVY WEIGHT...it's a STRUGGLE which makes me STRONGER. I'm a caterpillar becoming a butterfly; don't break my cocoon.

Also, when I tell you the specific name of the exercise and you use a different name for the "same" exercise and show me the WORST FORM EVER and insist I do it that way, do not be surprised if I give you dirty looks and say, "No, you're wrong. Google Pendlay Rows." Stop hurting me; stop trying to disempowering me. If you don't like the fact I lift more than you....work your ass off like I do.

Love and kisses,
Me

I swear, I have gotten more "advice" from non-trainers at the gym, it could literally kill me.  I do appreciate the trainers that like to spot me just so they can have the privilege of spotting a chick benching over 100#.  I appreciate their awesome advice on form and never once have any of them told me to lighten the weight--in fact, they've told me to go heavier.

So, to all the "bros" out there that think you're badass and think that a chick can't lift... STFU.  I bet I will deadlift more than you can by the end of this year; I will hit my goal of body weight bench presses; and I will conquer the Over Head Press.  Know why?  Because I'm a Butterfly.  My wings are getting stronger and when I burst from my cocoon, you're going to be sorry.

Either that, or I'll just become Wonder Woman or Power Girl...or Lady Deadpool.  I like Lady Deadpool...