Monday, February 13, 2017

The Most Difficult Relationship...

...is the one I have with myself.

2017 will be one of the years that define me.  Some years pass...and they are a mixture of laughter and tears and highs and lows...and of course, all of those moments shape you.  But then there are some years that CHANGE you.

This will be that year for me.

I have been waiting to write "the blog post"...the one I know so many of you are waiting for.  The post  will shed light on my vague status updates on Facebook, or more direct posts (although still "illusive") on Instagram.

And that post will come.  In due time.  But not yet.  One thing I would like to think I have always been over these last 8 years is transparent with you.  It's one of the things that you probably like about me.  I will talk about pretty much anything.  We don't have very many secrets between us.  So that post will come.  But not  yet.

So until then...you get this.

I have been doing a lot of soul searching lately.  Have you ever tried it?  It's fucking scary.  Because when you search for something...you might just find it.  And the "it" is usually hard to find for a reason.  We bury the "it".  Once you start to pull the blanket back though, once you start to peep into places you usually try to skim right over...things start to happen.

And it's happening to me.

I'm going to tell you a secret.  And I hesitate, literally, to type it, because I don't want it to change the way you think about me.

But the secret is...I am full of self-doubt, insecurities, and feelings of inadequacies.  I believe I have a way with words.  I can tell a story, I can tell a joke, I can write a love letter, I can pen this blog. Well you should just HEAR the words I say to myself, sometimes inside my head.  Sometimes aloud when I am alone.  They can be terrible and cruel.

Recently, some of the wonderful people in my life (that I am thankfully surrounded by) have heard me say the things I think about myself.  I have said them out loud to actual people for the first time in...well..for the first time ever.  I don't/didn't want people to know that the Amy that they love...the funny, charming, outgoing, happy, upbeat Amy...isn't really that person on the inside.  I mean...I AM...but there is another Amy.  And I suppose that is true for many people.  But here I am, this person always shouting LOVE YOURSELF...

and I don't love myself.

And here is a distinction I want to make.  I am not talking about my external self.  I still will shout LOVE YOUR BODY...WEAR THE BIKINI...because I am really at a place with my body these days that is relatively wonderful.  I am at peace (98%) of the time with all of me.  The muscles and the fluff.  The curves and the cellulite.  My body is strong and I AM confident in that.  And what will be will be.  Some things will never change.  My biceps can get bigger, my butt can grow in wonderful ways...but I will always have loose skin.  I will always have scars.  And that is just fine.

It's difficult to explain.

People say "But Amy...when I look at you...you always seem so confident".

Well yes.  Because confidence is attractive and I want people to like me and no one likes a sad sack who mopes around and complains.  So I stand up straight, look people in the eyes, make them laugh and try to win them over with my charm.  I am confident in my wit, my heart, my kindness, my mind, my ability to squat you.

But self-worth is a different animal.

And when it comes to matters of the heart, and more specifically, Heather...I've never been enough.   Not in my mind.  My fear from day one was that at any moment, Heather would realize that I was not good enough for her.  And what you think, you become.  This feeling is what has shaped every action and decision in our relationship..  This feeling is why I have allowed things to happen...things that have hurt me and have almost broken me.  How could I stand up for myself?  She is amazing.  And self-disciplined.  And attractive.  And has abs.  Who am I?  Nothing compared to her.  So I have though I should be happy to have something....rather than not have her at all.  We teach people how to treat us.  And we let people treat us the way we do based on how we value our own worth.

Some of you are going to tell me I am crazy.  Some of you are going to tell me Heather is the lucky one.  That I am beautiful and smart.  WELL OF COURSE you are going to tell me that.  Because you are nice and like me.

But several months ago, two of my closest friends did tell me I was crazy.  And for some reason...a little seed was planted.

And it's growing.

And I am nurturing it.

But it's not easy.

Learning to love myself has been, thus far, the most difficult thing I have ever had to do.

Standing up for myself is hard.  I want to please and be loved.  I want to make people happy.  I am a giver.  Giving and doing brings me joy.  I want to be that person for my friends, and certainly for the person I thought I would spend forever with.  Standing up for myself makes me feel...selfish.  Wanting things that make my heart happy...makes me feel selfish.  And it can be confusing.

I started going to therapy for the first time in my life.  I wanted to "fix" whatever was wrong with me.  Maybe if I could fix whatever was broken, maybe Heather would love me more.

Do you know what I have discovered (not in therapy...but just over the last couple of months)?

I do not need to be fixed.

I am not broken.

I am actually kind of amazing.

And...

I might actually like me.

I am 37 years old, and my father will tell you that I have always sold myself short.  He is usually referring to my career and why I don't believe in myself enough to push...but he is right.  This isn't just related to Heather...but my entire life.

And you know what?  I had a great childhood.  My parents always, and still, support me and believe in me.  My mom was THAT mom at graduation, holding the Carpe Diem sign in the crowd.  My lack of self worth didn't come from lack of love and encouragement.  I suppose it came from a mixture of the relationship with my brother (who I love and am not blaming), and my relationship with my weight.  Feeling fat from a super early age (even though I was NOT fat until later) shaped my life.  I had to be the clown that made people love her, so I wouldn't be the fat girl that people made fun of.  I had do and overdo.

And that has never stopped.

I am a size 8-10 now.  Below "average".  And yet I still feel like everyone's first impression of me is "look at that fat girl".

Sure, I have muscle.  But I feel like people think "Wow, that fat girl has a lot of muscle".

Sure I have a sexy walk and can fill out a pencil skirt...but I feel like people are thinking "Wow, that fat girl sure has a sexy walk and can fill out a pencil skirt".

When people see Heather and I together...I feel like they are thinking "Wow, that super fit girl with abs is in love with a fat girl".

As I type this my hands are trembling.  It's easier to pose naked in front of strangers than it is to be honest with people that care about you.  I don't really want you to know all of my secrets.

On this journey, as my little seed of self love is growing (it's like the science experiment with the seed and Styrofoam cup that most of us did in elementary school)...I am trying some new things.

1.  The negative hateful self talk...I stop it almost as soon as it begins.  And it's with pride that I say...it doesn't happen as often as it used to.  It likes to come up when I am drinking (hmmm...perhaps I should not drink then)...but I literally have said to myself "STOP"...and I do.

2.  I am surrounding myself with people that love me.  I am SO lucky to have people in my life that want to pick me up.  People that will listen to me when I am sad.  And that means being honest and not always being "happy Amy".  And you know what I have discovered?  They STILL love me.  Even when I am unable to get out of bed or I am crying so hard I can't breathe or speak.  They still want to be my friends.

3.  I am trying to make choices FOR ME.  This is so so hard. And I am not there yet.  But I have resolved myself to stop trying to fix everything at once.  I don't need to think about next week or next month or next year.  Today is what I am given and I can make a choice today.  One day at a time.  One little step at a time.

4.  I want to do things that will make me the best version of myself.  And if something hurts me or makes me a lesser version...or is something or someone makes the sad Amy want to come out...then I need to look at that as a sign.  I don't want to be bitter.  I want to be better.

5. I'm reading self-help books.  Lord.  I don't like to type that.  But sometimes there are helpful tidbits in those suckers!  And while those authors may not be any more mentally sound than I am...if their words can cause me to THINK...well then it was worth it.

6.  If what we think, we become...I am trying to live mindfully.  I am trying to be present.  I am trying to focus on what I WANT.  What I want to happen.  Where I want to be.  This is hard as well...because it means I have to think about what I WANT (see number 3).

7.  I believe that we are meant to share our lives with other people.  For most of that, that is an intimate partner.  And I have long thought I needed someone to complete me.  Don't get me wrong.  I have been single and am not one of those people who "needs" someone because they don't want to be alone.  But I am a romantic and have long bought into "you complete me".  But I have realized, I can't expect someone else to complete me.  I must be complete on my own.  I CAN expect someone to compliment, support me, love me, encourage me, challenge me, spoil me.  But the voids I feel cannot be filled by another.  That's work for me to do.

8.  Things that I have wanted to change about myself for a long time...I am learning that those are the things that the good people love about me.  I AM super sensitive.  But you know what? My emotions and my empathy is why I can relate to people.  It's why I can make you feel better.  It's why I can love with my whole heart. I've been told that I am "too sensitive".  But I love my heart and it's capacity to hope and believe.  So I am going to keep "overly sensitive" Amy around.


I've been told that I live in an "imaginary world"...where love never fades and people don't hurt you.  For a few months I actually began to think maybe "they" were right.  But I realized on my way to bowling one night...I KNOW love is real.  I know it because I feel it.  I know it because I possess it.

It's a really really weird place for me to be.  It's sad and scary and also...exciting.   We have all heard things like "You can't really love someone until you love yourself". Well I can love, and do love, and have loved.  But I think the truth is...if you don't love yourself, how can you expect someone else to love you in the way you need and deserve.

One of the quotes that sticks with me is...

"You owe yourself the love that you so freely give to other people".

And for the first time in my life...I am starting to believe that.

xoxo-

Amy








Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Getting Naked in the Name of Art (and Ego)


For the longtime readers of my blog...you know a few things about me (well let's be honest...you may know MORE about me than you ever really wanted to know...see the Everybody Poops post).  One of those things that you have been privy to over the years is my healthy sense of self.  I think it was probably a blessing that I have always been a legend in my own mind...it has served me in many capacities...

but last night...it was time to put my body self-confidence to the test.

About a year ago an email popped up in my inbox from our local arts center asking for "models" for their weekly art class.  Well, as I have always wanted to be a model in the official capacity and have long had NUDE modeling on my bucket list, I pulled up my big girl panties (ironic since it would require me taking them off) and emailed the coordinator.  That was 12 months ago.  I let his response set in my email inbox all this time.  Well earlier this month I finally told him I was ready.  He suggested I come one night and watch for a little while, as apparently holding poses for long periods of time is harder than it sounds.

So I went.

I was hoping that the model for that night would be an average folk.  But alas, in walks this girl who resembles a Greek goddess who practices yoga on Mt. Olympus.  Just great.  Well she got naked, hoped up on the stage.  I immediately tried to find a stretch mark...a cellulite dimple...a labia.  Nothing.  No flaws.

Sigh.

So I watched for awhile, decided I was gonna bring the heat to this gentle art folk, and booked my night.

January 30, 2017.  Just one day after my 8 year anniversary of my lapband surgery.

Perfection.

Here's how it works.  The class is free to the artists, they are just asked to tip the model. On average they say a model makes around $65.  I was going to do it for free!  The class lasts 3 hours.  For the first 20 minutes I change my pose every 2 minutes.  After that, I hold poses for 20 minutes at a time, with a 10 minute-ish break in between.  There were about 10 "students" last night.  Most were retired art professors or long time artists.  They were what you would imagine if one were to imagine such an audience.  There was a black mock turtle neck.  There was a pair of off brand Tevas.  There were some beards and some jazz playing on Pandora.  They were super sweet and kind and made me feel amazing.

So.  I arrive.  I take a selfie in the car and do a Facebook post.  I enter the building.

Someone says, "Are you the model"..

I say to this nice fellow "I've been waiting my whole life to answer that question...why yes!  I am the model".

They tell me not to be nervous, tell me there is a robe (not to worry, I have brought my own).  I wait and introduce myself to the people as they walk in.  Someone tips me $5 before I even take my clothes off because "I have the best personality"...

I am liking this already.

So I beebop into the bathroom and disrobe to put on the robe.

I beebop out.

Then, I have to make a decision.  The ONLY thing I was worried about...



...was the wattle...

Again, long time readers and my close friends...and some strangers that I have chosen to tell, know of that which I speak.  And while my mother, and probably my father, do not find it necessary to share stories of emergency poops or excessive labia, I feel like that if I don't bring us together as one...who will?

So I had some decisions to make before I took off my robe.  Do I tuck the fruit rollups up a little bit, almost like a drag queen hiding the kingly bits...or do I just go full ham wallet and let them be.  I kinda decided to tuck.  But the risk I was running was...what if mid pose, they free themselves and BAM...just like someone dropping rose curtains...they pop out.  It could frighten someone.  (Well, they did indeed free themselves, but luckily it was a sitting position where I had strategically placed my forearms as a shield.)

So it was time.  I took off my robe, stepped on the stage (which is about 3 feet away from my people) and started going.

And...

It.Was.Awesome.

Changing poses every two minutes at the beginning was the easy part.  Of course I had created a "routine" of sorts, so I was prepared to change things up. I stood...gave them the front.  I turned...gave them the back.  I sat...gave them a little of this...gave them a little of that.  After the first 20 minutes I got a 10 minute break and then came the 20-minute poses.

This is no joke.  I could be still.  I just kept thinking about this book I had read about Buddhist monks and how they can sit in extreme conditions by focusing on other things.

I chose to focus pizza and chicken nuggets.

Seriously.  Just like when we are supposed to be clearing our mind in yoga...all I think about is food.

At some point, about an hour and a half in, I did ask them "When does the pizza arrive"...I don't know how these people were not starving.  Next time I am totally bringing snacks.

During my ten minute breaks I would put my robe back in and make small talk.  Some of favorite bits of conversation were:

Person:  "Are you a swimmer?
Me:  No.  I lift.  Well...I am a mermaid but...
Person: Yes.  Your back muscles are very developed"
Me:  Oh.  Why yes.  Thank you.

Person: "So do you do this professionally"
Me? Nude model?
Person: Yes.
Me. Uh no.  This is my first time.
Person: Whhhhhaaaaat?  You are so good at it.
Me:  Oh. Why yes.  Thank you.

At one point, after one of the 20 minutes poses involving a chair was over...they actually applauded.  It was kinda like I was in heaven.  I was literally the center of attention, making money, and I didn't have to wear pants or shoes.

I did walk around during the breaks and look at some of the drawings.  They were amazing.  One of the gentleman was doing pretty big drawings and using color and I was in love with myself.  I might email him and ask if I can purchase one of his sketches.  Because he was focused more on form and not things like stretch marks or cellulite, I was in love with the shape of my body.

It really was everything I hoped it would be.  It made me feel like if I can stand naked in front of 10 strangers for 3 hours...then what can't I do?  And it reinforced everything I hope is true.  That confidence in your body is  not about being "perfect".  I don't think perfection is a dream  you should chase...it's about loving and appreciating what you have.  It's hard at times.  I fixed my tots but now instead of tube socks for boobies, I have cute perky boobs with scars.  I COULD have a tummy tuck to remove extra skin, but I trade it for a scar.  But because I walked in there and held my head high, pulled my shoulders back, let the bits fly in the wind, and stuck my ass out like I loved that sucker more than Cheetos (I kinda actually do)...and because I smiled...and was kind...and genuine...I don't think they saw me as a former fat girl with saggy skin and scars and cellulite.  I felt beautiful.  And strong.  And proud.

Oh.  And I made $110 in tips.

So I felt kinda rich too.

I can't wait to do it again.

I gotta start working on my next routine.

Love y'all.

xoxox




Thursday, September 29, 2016

#imjudgingyourworkout

A couple of weeks ago I may have indicated that I was going to write a post about judging other people's workouts.  I may have indicated that I would be writing that post in the next 24 hour window.

Well.

I lied.

It's been more like 24 days, but I'm almost a woman of my word...so here it is!

I've been noticing something.  Something "trending" if you will.  And I am guilty of this something, so I can't get too high on my horse.  But something happens when you adopt a new fitness regimen.  Something happens when you start working out.  It's very similar to what happens when you start a new diet.  For example, Sunday you loved carbs, now it's Monday, you are on Atkins, and suddenly all other humans who eat carbs are RIDICULOUS...and you are looking at their pictures on instagram of their lasagna like..."Oh my god.  HOW can you eat that"?.

You know what I am talking about.  Food shaming is an entirely different post though...so I digress...

What I am referring to is workout shaming.  

Possible types of popular working outs:

-Running
-Cycling
-Crossfit
-Personal Training
-Videos
-Weight lifting
-Barre
-Yoga
-Gym Membership

Possible thoughts you (or I) may have had in relation to these popular working outs:

-Running: "Oh yeah...but running is so hard on your body".
-Cycling: "Oh yeah...Cycling is SO expensive."
-Crossfit: "Uh...yeah.  You're going to get hurt. Crossfit is for douchebags."
-Personal Training: "I would never PAY someone to show me how to workout."
-Videos: "Yeah...those are fine but I like a REAL workout with REAL weights."
-Weight lifting: "I don't want to look like a man.  I'm just into toning."
-Barre: "It's kinda like "sorority girls who lunch". Sorry I don't have time to go in full makeup and work on my toe points.
-Yoga: "Yoga is glorified stretching. It's not a real workout."
-Gym membership: "Why pay for a place to workout when you can do it at home for free?" (You can break this down even further by judging WHAT type of gym membership you have...


Are ya'll scooping what I am pooping?  Are you picking up what I'm putting down?  What we need to realize is that to each their own.  What works for you, what gets you all pumped up, may not be for everyone.  I HATE workout videos.  I end up standing in my living room staring at the ceiling, or laying in fetal position talking to my dogs.  But some people love them.  I HATE running.  It never became a stress release for me.  I never found my runners high.  But some people love that shit.  And it's okay if some of ya'll lift 3 pound weights and feel satisfied  I realize that not all girls want to see their muscles.  We are all on a journey (even though there are detours) to find out what will make us healthy.  And instead of judging other's for the path they have chosen, we should listen and support.  We should lift each other up.  We should share in their conversation and try to remove any negative comments we would like to add.  

And this takes some practice.  At least for me.  I have to mentally check myself preeeetttty often.  I have to say "No No Amy...hush that negativity."  And even if I can't completely stop judging other's and how they workout...like if my brain just WON'T stop talking to me...I can control what comes out of my mouth.  Or I can try :)

If You Could Do It Different

I don't really believe in regret.  I don't really want to go back in time and change anything, because I believe all my life choices, all the mistakes and wins, all the good and bad have brought me here...and if I were to change something in my past, well, ipso facto, it would change my present.

But SOMETIMES I do like to play a game in my head called "IF I believed in going back in time and doing things differently, what would those "things" be".

So let's play.

1.  I wouldn't have dropped out of gymnastics at 6 due to the fact I thought I was too fat for my instructors to support me doing an aerial.  Like seriously.  I was just a normal sized girl.

2.  I would have done weight lifting in high school instead of being intimidated by the athletic dudes.  I could have tore it up!

3.  I would have had better sex.  Lord have mercy.  How many years does it take us to realize that sex is not just about the other person getting off?  Took me until I as abooooout 30.  If I went back in time I would be like "Uh, no sirs.  We aren't done here.  It's me time".

4.  I would have studied abroad in college.

5.  I would have taken Spanish 3 in college.

6.  I would have only taken enough student loans to pay for school...instead of looking at 40 solid years of paying it off.  Lord.

Well.  This turned out to be slightly boring because I cannot think of anything else! lol.  What about you?  Would you have done anything differently?

Thursday, September 8, 2016

A Year Old. None The Wiser.

Today is my birthday.

I am 37 years old.

I wish I could say that this day finds me not just older, but also wiser...but  it doesn't.  It's been a rough month for me.  Maybe a rough couple of months.  And I wish today wasn't my birthday...because I love my birthday...and my heart just isn't in it.

But it is, so in order to have the smile everyone will expect I have two goals today.  1.  Not to cry.  and 2. To focus on all that I have.

What I am thankful for, in no certain order:

-A body that is healthier than it has ever been
-A wife that loves me
-My fur babies.  I love them.
-My friends that love me and are there for me.
-My muscles.
-My family.
-Tacos and all types of cheese.
-A roof over my head and food in my belly (see above bullet point)
-My health

September 8, 2016.

Monday, August 29, 2016

Workout Panties, Thrusters, Snatches and Other Things That Sound Delicious

In my last post I rambled on about WHY I decided to try Crossfit...and by the time I finished that lengthy explanation, I was tiring of my own self...so I decided to carry over the Crossfit experience into a second post.

LUCKY YOU!

So let us start with some psychological tidbits regarding Amy's brain.  I would consider myself relatively fit.  I would also think it's same to say that I am physically stronger than the average 36 year old woman.  I could be delusional, but I believe I have a body that says: She works out...but she really loves tacos.  You know what I am saying?  I am confident in my physique.  Confident riiiiiight up until I think about placing myself in a situation where I believe there are REALLY fit people.  Then I am a chubby unicorn that has an over inflated sense of self.  So it was with trepidation that I went to my first cross-fit class.

Prior to rolling into the parking lot at 4:40 AM (it started at 5:00am and I apparently grossly underestimated the time required to travel to Crossfit during prime sleeping hours for the normal human beings that inhabit Pensacola), I had stalked the Facebook page, I had looked at their website.  I tried to watch any videos.  Photo stalked people who were in their posts...

I did my research.

I even sent messages to a couple of my friends that I knew went to this facility.  I prepped myself.

Then I almost pooped myself.

Well not really....although we know I do have a history...but I had that nervous stomach one gets before embarking on something that could potentially kill them.

But I went anyways.

I waited for the big garage door to roll open.

And out of my car I did go...into...

The "box".

Imagine a big metal structure, I'm not sure "warehouse" is the correct term...but gigantic garage might work.  There are racks and rigs, there are ropes to the ceiling, sleds for pushing, medicine balls, kettle bells...and absolutely no air conditioning.  I met Joe, the owner.  He looks...normal.  Well, thin and healthy.  He is training for a triathlon so he isn't even doing Crossfit right now.  So he looks more like a "runner" than a "crossfitter".  Very laid back.  Very friendly.

As the other people arrived I kept waiting for someone to show up in what I call "workout panties".
Here is a good example of workout panties...This is Dani Sidell...another one of my Instagram girl crushes.

But as I waited for people to arrive...everyone looked...normal.  There were some girls in college, there were some dudes that may have been around during Jack Lalanne was just a boy...
There were guys in their 40's, women that looked like "ladies that play tennis and shop then go eat salads and shop at Target".  There was a range of ages and body types.  And everyone was SUPER encouraging and welcoming.  And just like I find in many situations in my life...new things are never as scary as I make them out to be in my head.

I can't even tell you what the WOD was that day (workout of the day), and I don't know how it is at other crossfit facilities, but the WOD reminds me a lot of a bootcamp style class.  Everyone is doing the same things, although at different weights or intensities, and you are doing it as a big group.  There is a warm-up, then maybe a section A, B, and C.  We usually start with something to get our heart rate up, a mix of high rep movements like box jumps, burpees, wall ball squats, and then something cardio like rowing or jump roping.  If you can't do any of those things...you modify.  The middle section is usually the olympic lifting.  You aren't going fast, you are concentrating on form, technique, and weight.  Then the last section is the "section of death" as I like to call it.  I can last anywhere from 3-27 minutes and sometimes I think I am going to die.  Usually it is for time and you are doing AMRAP (as many rounds as possible in a certain amount of time) or you are doing a set number of rounds and reps and recording how long it takes you.

What's great about being at the brink of death is you can't really compare yourself to other people for the sweat in your eyes and the beating of your heart in your ears.

I jest.

If you don't want to push yourself you can take it easy....as my friend Higgie will tell you.  Sometimes I look over at her as I try to recover in my fetal position and she hasn't even broke a sweat and is staring off in space.

You do you boo.

But because I want to record my time (and perhaps...PERHAPS I like beating people), I usually go all out.

And before you know it...class is over.  I have learned to bring a beach towel to sit on for the ride home because it's hotter than Satan's wallet in there and I sweat like a beast.  I have to take my shirt off to get into my car.  I could literally ring it out most days.  And...I like it.

NOW, do I love love love Crossfit?  No.  But I really like it.  Some people really like the group "fitness class" idea.  I honestly prefer lifting alone...with just the Ying Yang twins to keep my company.  But there is something to the community idea.  Which is why so many people find Crossfitters annoying because it IS very easy to talk about it all the time.

Do I think Crossfit is for everyone and you have to go sign up right now?  No.  I know you can adapt many things for many levels, I just wonder if someone with say...arthritis or terrible knee pain...would get as much out of the workouts as you should.  Some people like Zumba more than doing clean and jerks.  Some women just like to work out with other women.  

And you know what?  That's okay.

Tomorrow I shall broach the subject of "my workout is better than your workout."

But until then, Happy Monday's my friends!

xoxox





Friday, August 26, 2016

Amy Does Crossfit

Something has been happening.  It started with...Instagram. As some of you 'Gramers know, you can search for pictures/posts on Instagram using #hashtags.

So, if you wanted to lovingly look at say, TACOS, you could go the search feature and type in #tacos, and your mobile device would be filled with glorious pictures of tacos that other Instagram users had tagged.

Well, one of my favorite hashtags to search by is #girlswholift.  I like to look at the posts for motivation, ideas for workouts, or funny meme's like...
This is kinda true...but we will return to what the most interesting man in the world is saying in due time.

I noticed in all my searching of #girlswholift that there was a theme in the bodies I was attracted to.  And by "attracted to" I don't mean in that "I'd like to picture you naked when I am naked" kind of attraction (well, not USUALLY), but attraction in the sense that I was drawn to a certain body type that I liked the most.

Exhibit A:

Meet Stacie Tovar.  While I don't know her, she IS from Nebraska which IS right above Kansas, which IS where I lived for 26 years of my life.  So we are practically best friends...anyways.  I love her body type.  What we shall call "Body type Crossfit".  Thick, muscular, strong, a little stocky, fit.  And I totally get that the female crossfit body type is not for everyone.  "Too masculine" some might say.  I only caution you in saying that if you are a female because it implies that muscles = man...and women can have muscles too and still be "feminine".  But regardless...I dig it.  And even back in the when the sun first started to rise on my love parade with Heather, she always told me that most likely I was meant to be stocky & muscular...that if I started to lift and started to lift heavy, I would not have the body of say...
Charlize Theron

Which I took as her trying to flirt with me and all I could picture in my mind was a precious 30-something year old lapband patient that transformed into a gymnast/weightlifter/professional dancer.

SO, whew...long story long dude....I noticed that the body type I wanted was often tied to women that did Crossfit.

One problem with that...

Heather and I have been talking shit on Crossfit for years.  YEARS I TELL YOU!  We would say, "Lawd...all crossfitters talk about is crossfit".  Or "It's so dangerous", "It's so bad for your body", or "they aren't even doing REAL pull-ups".

Sigh.  So I viewed the crossfit girls in secret.  

THEN out came a documentary on Netflix called Fittest on Earth 2015.  It was a documentary that followed several of the top female and male athletes competing in the 2015 Crossfit games.  I watched it once by myself. I watched it again by myself.  THEN...I decided to make Heather watch it...after which I informed her that I was going to win the 2017 Crossfit games (I may need to extend that deadline a little after actually DOING some of things required to even qualify).  And being the fabulous wife that I was said to me...

"If you really want to do Crossfit I will support you and pay for it...and I will stop talking shit about it".

Say what?

OKAY THEN!

But it actually took me a couple of weeks to summon up the courage to step into a "box" (they don't call them gym's.  I don't really know why but I think it has to do with the fact that the buildings are usually in warehouse like structures...not what you would picture as a gym these days?).

And while I am saving my experience thus far (finishing my first month) for my next post I will say this:

1.  It's not what I thought.
2.  I've got a lot to learn.
3.  No one is working out in their panties.
4.  98% of the people who go to my "box" look like normal people.
5.  It's challenging and different.

And that last one is important for me.  I have been working out now for almost 8 years.  (I mean regularly and post-lapband).  I started with walking.  I then segued into bootcamp style classes taught by future wife.  Then did circuit style training (a mix of cardio and weight stations) for a couple of years, tried to become a runner, and really got into lifting.  I have been actively trying to put on muscle mass for the last 2 years...and I certainly have become stronger and made gains. But for the last 6-9 months, I've kind of hit a body plateau.  So my real hope with adding crossfit to my normal workout routine is that it will be the change my body needs to start growing again.

And while I may never look like Stacie Tovar (I'm old, I used to weigh 330 pounds, I don't eat like her and I can't dedicate my days to training and fitness), I can at least by her shirts and pretend!


This is her website just in case you want to buy one too!