Stupid Girls

Sunday, July 04, 2004

ballet & weights

You are reading

repost You are reading

I'm so glad I started the ballet stretches & weight lifting!

I just looked at myself, nude, in the mirror. My belly is disappearing! I'm amazed at the difference, in a few, short weeks!

My legs are never going to be willowy. I'm a short woman. But I've always had beautiful legs. Now, they just look stronger, more compact. They don't look doughy and flabby anymore.

My ass is getting perky. Again, I'll never have "buns of steel;" that's just not in the job description of the women in my family. We're NOT anerexics!

But my butt is lifted, full, like half a pumpkin. It'd make a nice, extra shelf for carrying stuff.

I have good breedin' hips: wide, open, sturdy, substantial. I've always had "saddle bags," but a lot of that is muscle, too. Now, my hips are more defined, like my legs.

My feet get prettier, every day: arched, stretched, toes long and seperated like my fingers.

My arms are much stronger. I can hold my flute, to play it, for hours, without fatigue. My fingers are quick on the flute and keyboard. Sleeves of old clothes are still tight, but that's not fat; that's muscle forming!

Every connective tissue in my body thrums with pain, stretching and strengthening. It's an electricity of Life. But I feel my joints' relief at having muscles and tendons to support me better.

THIS pain is about action, not inaction. This pain is Life, itself, coursing through my whole body with such force and power. THIS pain makes love to me, rewards me for my hard work, tells me we're going somewhere.

I woke achey and sore from climbing that volcano. And I didn't just climb it; I circled it!

At first, I thought I'd indulge the pain and take "the day off" from physical effort.

But my body actually wants MORE! She's rejoicing in the freedom to move, to lift, to grasp, to cling to the Earth by sheer force of will.

THIS pain is birth! It's no warning me to sit still; it's rewarding me for acting. It's telling me something wonderful is happening to me; I'm creating a miracle.

It's the pain I felt as a little girl, from spending my summers playing. I'd wake up sore and tingly from swimming, biking, running, climbing. I'd drop to my feet, ready to embrace the effort all over again.

My companion suggested that Porkchop might "feel better" if he got more exercise like we had yesterday. He might be in "better shape."

Uh, huh. The way to a woman's heart is through her dog, huh?

Today is Food Not Bombs. That's very tiring for me. I won't push myself THIS morning, so I can maintain for four hours of moving around.

But I get up very early in the morning. There's a big park, uphill from my house. I've never gone, blaming it on the hill.

But I climbed a VOLCANO yesterday! Not a piddly, paved road!

I have a feeling this business of sitting around with coffee and cigarettes, listening to the radio for two hours, is about to end.

I could easily spend two hours, every morning, with my headphones on, walking the dog, climbing the park, stretching, looking at trees.....

And I'd still hear my radio! LOL

I MISS walking! I used to walk about ten miles, every day, when I lived in Pacific Grove, CA. I walked alone. I walked with friends. I knew everybody's cats & gardens and kids.

I'd walk in the forests, overlooking the bay or tide pools. I sat on a big boulder to rest.

One day, a family of those little deer came by to graze. The buck, sporting a full wrack and laser eyes, looked right at me while his mate and fawn nibbled grasses.

I just kept sitting, not even looking at him.

He came right to the boulder, nostrils flared, scenting me. He was ready to kill me, if necessary.

I just kept sitting, breathing deeply and slowly. I never moved.

The buck circled the boulder. When he was directly behind me, he mounted the rock. I could feel tiny vibrations of his hooves under me.

He got so close to me, I heard the huffing of his breath and felt it, warm and wet, on the back of my neck.

I heard a skittering sound as he turned and leapt from the boulder.

He finished circling me.

He went to his family, nuzzled the doe under her ear, and steered her farther down the hill from me. The fawn automatically followed.

He set them up, only ten feet farther than they'd been from me. He stood sentinal, with them in front of him, head turned to watch me.

I still didn't move.

He cautiously lowered his head and began to feed.

I shifted my position, for comfort.

He continued eating, turning his head to watch me better.

They ate for about twenty minutes.

I finished my meditations, dug in my bag for some gum and a nail file. I filed my nail while they ate.

I pivoted on my rump toward the side of the rock farthest away from them and scooted down it on my bottom.

I stood at the base of the boulder. He could still see my head and shoulders. He just watched as I walked away.

In following weeks, I spent a great deal of time at that boulder with them.

I watched the fawn lose its spots.

I moved away and never finished my business with the deer.

But they're still here, in my heart.

I won't see any deer at the local park.

But I'll be stepping on Earth, under trees, watching seasons change.

I need to be on Earth. I spend way too much time on concrete and asphault. It's no wonder my body hurts!

I need to love my mother.