I'll never look like a Victoria's Secret model (and how I'm coming to terms with this)

Dear Amazons, yesterday I embarked on the ultimate of journeys, facing a challenge that makes even the strongest among shudder internally.  Of course, this deed that I speak of is none other than swimsuit shopping.

Ugh. I was totally in the zone ahead of time, thinking about how I hadn't done this in quite a few year (for good reason) and how this year would inevitably be different because even I can see how I've put on lean muscle and am in the best shape of my life.

HA.  That's all I can say.  If it hadn't been so depressing, I would have laughed.  But there was no laughing.  Because as I looked at myself in the mirror, cast in that awful dressing room light, I was comparing myself to the VS Angels who saunter down the runway in their itsy, bitsy, teeny, weeny whatevers and that's not what reflected back at me.

I do not have a bikini body in the sense that I do not fill out a bikini the way that the "perfect human specimen according to VS" does.  I have a body from spending 3 mornings a week in the weight room and another 3 days powering through the cardio.  My thighs are not shapely (no thigh gap here) they are muscular, initially taking shape from years of soccer before I recently began honing in on them to reduce my chronic knee pain.  I do squats.  I pedal on the stationary bike until I feel my glutes and quads burning.  And afterwards I check my own legs out in the mirror.  They are strong legs.

These legs don't look good in a teensy weensy bikini bottom because they dwarf it.

My chest does not generously fill out a bikini top.  Actually it's amusing to see how little I have going up on top.  And I'd rather avoid the pieces that promise to add 2 cups instantly (!).  Because as badly as I wanted boobs when I was younger, the reality is that I'll never have to invest in sports bras.

Though I am ashamed to confess this, I will for the good of us all, and say that as I stood there in the dressing rooms of Sports Authority, Macy's, and finally Nordstrom I couldn't help but think "well I guess I should watch what I eat, cut out more carbs, eat less sugar, blah blah blah."  Wait just one fucking minute.  Do you have any idea just what my diet already looks like???  Only the smallest part of my daily sustenance could be considered processed, leaving the rest to be mostly organic whole foods.  That doesn't leave a whole lot of wiggle room.  And that's because the standard that I'm holding myself to is fictitious, unattainable, and potentially hazardous to my health.  So no, there's nothing wrong with what I'm doing and I came to that conclusion (fortunately rather quickly) all on my own.  And then it became a matter of finding the pieces that worked with my body, not the other way around.

I ended up with a simple top (no triangle cups to sag limply) and bottoms that were similar to my spandex gym shorts (yes).  A style that isn't flashy or bedazzled or ruffled but it's what worked and that's what matters.

Something else fueling my confidence in the face of these twisted ideals?  I've been the recipient of enough attention from the opposite sex that I know I don't have to be a fucking supermodel to distract the heck out of them.  Let's get real, and I mean REALLY real.  How many of us have had really hot sex?  You know, the kind where you know, know, that everything about your body drives your partner wild.  Raise your hands.  *raises own hand*  Okay, now how many of us look like Heidi and Gisele?  *crickets chirping*  Hmm...I see.  Well that settles that.

I do this for me.  I have had a really rocky time of things pertaining to my fitness (or lack thereof') as a child and body image in general.  It's only just now starting to be something that doesn't send me into a downward spiral.  It's not easy for a lot of us to walk around in our underwear when the world is bombarded by what the "ideal" sexy body.

I do this because I have never felt stronger or more empowered and in control of my emotions than I do now.  And that's with size-A boobs, knock-knees, a gut that enjoys red meat, and legs that give me away as an athlete.  I am me.  You are you.  Tell the twisted ideals to go eat a sandwich.

Polar Plunge, 6 months, plus sometimes it's a little rocky.

Okay so the rocky mention in the title refers to the embarrassing, shameful, and humiliating performance by the Denver Broncos in the Super Bowl tonight.  Bleh.  End of that story.

On to more empowering news, 6 months come and gone.  I'm here!  I haven't crawled into a hole to become a hermit.  He didn't win.

I rarely think about him anymore and when I do it's something along the lines of "I'm really glad we're not together" or "You need to figure out how to be happy, I can't have that kind of toxicity in my life."  It feels awesome.  It feels awesome because it used to bring me to tears thinking about him.  About the memories we shared and how it came crashing down in the end.  But that doesn't happen any more.

Today I'm stronger than I was 6 months ago.  I'm fiercer and more determined than ever before.  And I see that relationship for what it was: not what I deserved.  It shouldn't be like pulling teeth to get someone to spend time with me.  But I was blinded by emotion and didn't want to accept reality.  I didn't want to accept the reality that I gave a year of my life to someone that didn't want to make the same investments as I did.  To be fair, I can't blame someone for wanting to be free to live life to the fullest.  To see the world, to travel, to experience once in a lifetime moments.  Some things can't be achieved when you've got the commitment of a monogamous relationship.  I can however blame someone for leading me on for a year.  But that's in the past.

Because now I am a sexier, more confident Amazon on the prowl.  Looking to enjoy life by eating well, breathing deeply, and making memories with my fellow Amazons.

So let's mark this 6 month milestone with pride!

Yesterday my coworker and I did the Seattle Special Olympics Polar Plunge.  What an amazing experience; even after doing twice before I never fail to get that feeling afterwards, the feeling that tells me "Yeah!  This is a great cause and I'm so proud to support this year after year!"

The two of us raised over $1000 and the event as a whole raised over $100,000.  So many Special Olympics athletes will benefit from this fundraiser and I will continue to do this for the foreseeable future.

Because Amazons give back.

bis bald

Proving My Worth

Happy Monday Amazons!

If you're like me, you probably feel like the weekend wasn't nearly long enough and you're probably feeling a little grumpy because it's Monday.  Yes yes, we all know the feeling.

Surprisingly enough, though, I haven't felt too badly today.  This despite the following:

• it IS Monday afterall
• woke up @ 4:45AM, rather than 5:00AM
• it's been a killer slow day at work
• didn't get nearly enough time with my guy this weekend

This week I am working full 8-hour days while the main secretary in our office takes a much needed vacation (to San Diego no less!); I'm in charge of keeping things running smoothly while she's away (hence the title).  Okay, so it's not a super tough gig, especially on a quiet, uneventful day such as this one.

But to make things a little easier, I'm happy to report that it is a beautiful day here in Seattle!

Perhaps Spring has finally sprung!

 I'm also happy to report that I feel as though I'm doing a good job in my coworker's absence.  One more little notch of experience that I can add to my resume.  I'll concede that working in an office setting is not my idea of a Dream Job.  Can't I just get paid to travel the world and eat good food?  No?  Well that's disappointing.  But I will say this: I've learned a lot in the 6 months that I've worked here at the medical center.  I won't be curing cancer or forging peace in the Middle East, but I handle wayward patients who call our office and you'll never meet a better mail-sorter in your life.  Plus I like it here and it is my hope that I'm slowly but surely proving my abilities to my coworkers and superiors.

As far as the workouts go, I'm satisfied (somewhat) with where I'm at.  Haven't tried running since my doctor's appointment several weeks ago and I will say that the pain seems to have subsided for the most part.  There are always the occasional flare-ups and quite often I get some twinges of pain when on the elliptical.  But I don't let it stop me because I'm made of tougher stuff than that.

                            "Pain is weakness leaving the body." -Unknown

 The abs are coming along nicely; perhaps I'll never have a six-pack (nor do I think I want one) but I'm sure not a Flabby Florence either.

I was the recipient of some playful teasing this weekend.  Friends were discussing a dish, called the Garbage Can to be exact, served at a neighborhood bar and everyone was oooing and ahhing about how delicious it sounded; everyone except me.  Apparently I had a grimace on my face, though I'd never know it because I seemed to be perpetually unaware of my facial expression at any given time.  Anyways, I was deemed too healthy and conscientious to appreciate such fare.  A title that I gladly accept and wear with pride.  Wouldn't you want it as well?

I'm a lean, mean, fridge-demolishing machine!