Hiromi_X

I haven't done any weightlifting for years because it bores me shitless. It's so damn repetitive. Instead, I maintain muscle strength through yoga and pushups. But now, I'm tired of that, so I'm back on weights for now. I'm doing machines, anyway; I don't feel like buying weightlifting gloves and all that, and anyway, free weights take up too much time. I don't have the patience of my early 20s, when I enjoyed being one of the very few females in the mostly male domain of free weights and disdained those who used machines. Well, screw that; I don't feel like spending hours in the goddamn gym. It's hard to find a gym with a pleasant atmosphere.

Allow me to brag. Last night, I decided to see the max weight I can lift. I did 120 pounds on the chest press machine! Three times! That's my body weight. The dude who used the machine next took weight off! Eee! I love being strong.

120 pounds! I spent the rest of my workout doing high weight, low rep exercises. I'll do different shits later this week. Today, I'm mildly and pleasantly sore, so I didn't overdo anything.

Posted by Hiromi at 3:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

From the NY Times: "The French parliament’s lower house has approved a bill that would make it illegal for anyone — including fashion magazines, advertisers and Web sites — to publicly incite extreme thinness, The Associated Press reports." Another story here, with information on penalties and the like.

I understand the concern over pro-ana websites, and can see that they do indeed "publicly incite extreme thinness," but I'm not sure about the fashion industry. There's an implicit argument behind the law that the fashion industry *makes* people think and behave in certain ways through their images. I don't buy that.

Posted by Hiromi at 8:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I say with total sincerity that I have no desire to be twenty-something again. I love where I'm at right now, having wisdom and perspective and shit. But lately, in addition to the good stuff, I'm faced with some unpleasant aspects of getting older.

I've always been physically active. I'm used to being able to run or swim or do whatever whenever I wanted without a whole hell of a lot of effort. But the other day, after only about three months off of exercising, I tried to run half a mile and felt like crap right off the bat. I was shocked to discover myself sucking wind after only about 100 yards or so. It's also taking longer to recover from injuries. I have chronic pain in my left wrist unrelated to keyboarding and some sort of issue with my right hip. When I've injured myself in the past, I got back to normal after only a month or so.

For the first time, I'm driven to moderation and gentle exercise. I'm used to going all out hard core. I'm used to bouncing back quickly, enjoying a good deal of endurance, gaining muscle strength quickly and retaining it, and otherwise outperforming most mofos. I don't mind other changes in my life related to getting older; for instance, it doesn't bother me that I have absolutely no interest in partying or doing other sorts of raucous shit. I prefer tranquility. But this is different. This feels more like a limit than a change. I'm trying to not feel like my body is letting me down.

Here's something interesting, though: I guess I can consider myself an athlete. I never thought of myself that way but now I realize that the reason I feel let down is because I'm used to performing at high levels physically, which is a definition of an athlete. Well. Good for me.

*sigh*

I've promised myself some frivolity and I'm going to have it, dammit, starting tonight at 9. Project Runway is on. Time for some good old-fashioned obsessing over meaningless pop cultural fluff.

Posted by Hiromi at 9:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

This is a big Limburger-that's-been-sitting-in-a-car-in-90-degree-weather-for-a-week Suit. I can't believe I'm going to talk about this. I'm deeply ashamed of admitting the below because it seems so silly. I'm cringing as I type this.

I have stretch marks on the outside of my hips. I was going to say "some stretch marks" or "just a few" in order to minimize it, but I'm not going to quantify them. They're there, and since I got them as a teenager, I've thought them to be the most horrible of deformities. I've been avoiding any sort of water activity since then, until swimsuits with shorts or skirts as bottoms appeared.

I know other women have them.* I like hearing that they do, because then I don't feel freakish about having them. I think, if other women have them, and they're normal, then maybe I'm not hideously deformed after all.

This is so fucking silly. No man I've been with has ever cared about them. Not one. Some say they didn't notice until I pointed them out, and then they were kinda confused by my hatred of them.

Why don't I fucking own up. I have a few on the backs of my calves, and some above my right knee.

I had only one negative response to them, a woman who was supposed to be my friend. I once saw her looking at them, but she said nothing. But weeks later, she said how proud she was of her body, since she had never had stretch marks even after having three kids.

I've hated her since.

So what am I going to do about this?

Well, I told y'all about this. I have also been swimming laps in a regular swimsuit. But the number and type of people who go to lap pools do not reflect the general population. So I'm going to walk around beaches in Hawaii in a two-piece suit, where tourist crowds can see. Including tactless little kids and rude-ass buffoons.

I have to admit that I figure my hard-won abs will counterbalance any deformities.

I hate myself for thinking that.

I'm hoping no one throws rocks.

I'm hitting publish 'fore I lose my nerve.

Posted by Hiromi at 1:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (22)