A woman without curves is like a fish without a bicycle

Man without muscles

This is not the post I had planned for today!  But we’ll put that post on the back burner for now, because I just saw something that made me realize need to cover another aspect of health that’s just as important as eating well and exercising– if not more! One of my favorite resources for banishing fitness boredom is BodyRock. The “home workout movement” features free daily workout videos, and their challenging moves fall under the category of high intensity interval training. Their instructors are encouraging and upbeat, although it feels a little gratuitous to see the female trainers only work out in sports bras and very brief shorts.

I also follow them on Facebook, and today they posted “like this post if you feel the same way!” with a picture of a very zaftig lady wearing lacy pink briefs. The picture was captioned “a woman without curves is like jeans without pockets: you don’t know where to put your hands.”

First of all, this message isn’t about the woman, it’s about the person wanting to put their hands on her. Why is she just an object? Second, I don’t want soft-core images from my workout gurus. I want pictures of people challenging themselves, pushing their limits, and being active, not come-hither. Third, women come in all sizes and shapes. They’re all capable of being happy, healthy, and attractive, although I’m more concerned with accomplishing my personal goals and less concerned with which men want to put their hands on me (actually I’d prefer not to think about that… otherwise I’d never walk down the street).

Men come in all sizes and shapes, too, although I’ve never seen an image that says, “a man without muscles is like jeans without pockets: you don’t know where to put your hands.”

Your sense of self matters more than having six-pack abs. Call it inner health, call it self-esteem, confidence, or whatever makes sense to you. I’d rather be happy and comfortable in my own skin than obsess over every morsel of food that goes into my mouth. I never want to feel that I need to work out to maintain my dress size, rather than just exercising because it makes me feel good. Yes, I admire my arms (frequently), but I don’t beat myself up if I skip a day, or if I can’t lift as much as the woman at the next bench. Each and every athlete is different, and I’m not in competition with them. I’m not even in competition with myself!

The problem with being interested in health and fitness is that you see a ton of health and fitness messages by companies who want your repeat business. Magazines want you to keep subscribing. Stores want you to keep buying. Gyms and trainers want you to keep up your membership. There are some great people out there who really do have their customers’/students’ best interests at heart, but at the end of the day, that magazine/clothing store/gym is a business, and they need you to make a profit. What sells?

Insecurity, that’s what.

There have been many studies done about the number of messages women receive in a day. Ads, articles, commercials, TV, internet, movies, magazines. You’re bombarded with people who are Photoshop-perfect, smiling with white teeth as they effortlessly glide through life. These unattainable, aspirational images are meant to sell you on the product, whether it’s deodorant, pink razors, diet pills, or shapewear.

I try to avoid generalizations, but I think it’s safe to say that most women have something they’d like to change about their bodies. Ads used to blatantly dance along the edge of women’s desire to lose weight. Then, finally, women started fighting back with body-positive messages like “I love my curves” or “kiss my big butt!”

Did companies respect this message? Did the people behind the ads say, “hey, we should stop telling women there’s something wrong with them?”

If you believe that, I’ve got this great bridge for sale…

The message is still there. It just has a new face, or a more subtle hook. Some companies, like Nike actually do a pretty decent job with positive motivation:

A WOMAN IS OFTEN MEASURED by the things she cannot control. She is measured by the way her body curves or doesn’t curve, by where she is flat or straight or round. She is measured by 36-24-26 and inches and ages and numbers, by all the outside things that don’t ever add up to who she is on the inside. And so if a woman is to be measured, let her be measured by the things she can control, by who she is and who she is trying to become. Because every woman know, measurements are only statistics and STATISTICS LIE.”

Great message, right? Although they’re still trying to sell you shoes/pants/sports bras, this is at least a step in the right direction.

What I have a problem with is messages that try to play women against each other, or elevate one body type by bashing another. The biggest weapon in this body battle royale is one simple word: “curves.”

Having curves used to mean that you weren’t as thin as society thinks you should be, and you were okay with that. That you were proud of your womanly figure. That in itself was problematic (you can still have a womanly figure if you’re not terribly curvy, right?) but it was a stand against the “thin is in!” tsunami.

Then curves became a gauntlet in the face to any woman who wasn’t voluptuous enough. “Real women have curves.” I’m pretty sure a real woman… is anyone who identifies as a woman. Curvy, not-so-curvy, two X chromosomes, transgendered… if you feel like a woman, you’re a real woman.

I’m simply not a fan of this body-conscious trend. What does it matter, as long as you’re happy and healthy and comfortable in your own skin? And when did curves become the new C-word? Women get enough messages telling them they’re not ____ enough (fill in the blank with young, sexy, skinny, successful, etc.). We shouldn’t be encouraged to turn on each other and judge who gets to be a woman and who’s left out.

The way the cookie crumbles

Property of Roger Hargreaves

Happy belated 2012! Blink and 1/12th the year is gone.  I had great plans to post food and fitness content regularly, but as the famous Lennon saying goes, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

However, that’s the past. It’s a new year, or at least a new month, and I declare 2012 to be the year of the cookie.

One of the biggest obstacles I dealt with during my blog hiatus was the recurring shoulder issue I talked about back in November. I was making great progress with physical therapy, doing my exercises like it was my job, stretching every day, and noticing drastic improvements in my posture, strength, and stamina.

Then life threw me the proverbial curveball. Or, in this instance, it was more of a proverbial banana peel: I slipped and fell down the stairs in the subway.

I wish I could say I turned my fall into a graceful tumble, rolling down the steps with ninja-like grace before springing to my feet in a photo-finish worthy of an Olympic rhythmic gymnast. In reality, as my feet went out from under me I instinctively did the most aggressive fallbreak I’ve ever pulled off, including during my brown belt test. I fell sideways as I slipped, which meant my right (injured) side did all the work of dispersing impact.

Then I bumped and slid down a few more stairs, taking some hits to my right hip and thoroughly terrifying a very nice tourist family who didn’t realize that day’s forecast was “cloudy with a chance of falling bloggers.”

I didn’t feel the effects of my fall right away. My Husband Elect, the brilliant Dr. Funkenstein, drew me an Epsom salts bath, dosed me with extra-strength Advil, and helped me coat myself in arnica gel. He was kind enough to wait until I was relaxing on the couch with a heating pad and a mug of hot apple cider before breaking it to me that I had a bruise the shape (and approximate size, from what it felt like) of Long Island on my hip. I wrote a note to my head instructor thanking him for drilling me in fall breaks until they were second nature. Other than that, I told myself how lucky I was to be young, in good shape, and well versed in the fine art of falling properly.

The next day, I didn’t feel young or in good shape at all.

I had a splitting headache, my stomach was upset, and I wanted nothing more than to lie on the couch and moan gently into a decorative throw pillow, like a Regency romance heroine jilted by her beau. I made appointments with the physical therapist and chiropractor for evaluation and adjustments, and resigned myself to missing several weeks of martial arts classes.

I know I take things far too personally, and I’ll probably never be able to stop being too hard on myself. But I can’t stand feeling like getting injured—again!— is something I could have avoided. If only I hadn’t been in a hurry. Why did I have to get injured now? Blather, rinse, repeat.

Obviously, a game of self-blame and regret is the least helpful mindset for healing and recovery. I may be a badass, but I’m still human. I’ve dealt with injuries that interrupted my training before, but I still have to remind myself  that I’m allowed to rest and heal before going back to the mat.

I’ve given myself permission to reorganize my priorities. Instead of my usual high-impact sessions devoted to self-defense techniques and sparring, I’ll be focusing on stabilizing and re-balancing my injured joints, and stretching out my sore muscles. My plan is to do a lot of walking and yoga, and become best friends with the resistance bands. If my PT gives the all-clear, I’m going to try modifying BodyRock’s High-Intensity Interval Training (HIIT) sessions— I might not be able to jump, but I can lunge, squat, and row like a pro. I’m calling this my February Fitness Challenge, and I’m excited to share my progress here!

Along with my fitness challenge, I’ll be changing up my meal plan. While I was injured (and wallowing, to be brutally honest), I fell into the trap of ordering dinner in. Easy, but also expensive and wasteful (all those plastic containers!). Besides, even the leanest, greenest choices are probably not as healthful as what I’d make at home. So expect plenty of new non-dessert recipes from me, although it wouldn’t be ToughCookieNYC without some triple-decker brownies here and there.

Have you dealt with a fall or other injury? Have any fun exercises, neat new gear, or delicious recipes to share? Tell me all about it!

Happy holi-daze!

It’s the week after Thanksgiving. Holiday songs are blaring in the stores, you’ve probably eaten turkey-and-cranberry sandwiches for dinner at least three nights in a row, and on every street corner and magazine cover, messages of holiday cheer are warring with holiday warnings for your attention. “Six scrumptious pumpkin recipes!” grapples with “Watch what you eat!” and you’re supposed to look forward to parties while suspecting your friends, carolers, Santa’s reindeer, and Jack Frost of sabotaging your diet, fitness routine, and hard-earned self-positive attitude. So much for peace on earth, right?

It’s true that the holidays can be fraught with stress and peril. It’s a time that comes with a lot of built-in expectations for how we’re supposed to feel (joy! gratitude!) and behave (party! celebrate!), and being merry and bright 24/7 takes a toll. On top of that, you’re supposed to sync the holiday whirlwind with your regular schedule, finding time for nourishing meals and your fitness routine. Does your office becomes a winter wonderland of candy and cookies? There’s sure to be an article warning you of the dangers of indulging, or recommending the least damaging option for your waistline. Or maybe you have a well-meaning friend, co-worker, or family member who likes to remind you how many calories are in that delicious piece of peppermint bark. It’s not easy, but there are ways to insulate yourself from the holiday heckling.

The first thing to remember is that this is your holiday season. Your body, your schedule, your choices. If you want to skip an invitation and squeeze in a long run, that’s your right. If you want to have a large glass of eggnog… I doubt it will do any lasting damage (unless the alcohol content is high and you find yourself freestyling to Little Drummer Boy… which might actually make you the hit of the party). The way most people think of it, the holiday season is trench warfare on your body, and the first month of New Year’s resolutions is the cavalry charge. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Make manageable commitments to health, and keep your fitness goals in mind. Are you trying to make it to the gym four times a week? You might have to get creative (pre-work or lunchtime workouts), but you can still make your sessions. Or adjust your plan slightly: can you be active at home? One of my favorite ways to build up a sweat on busy days is high intensity interval training. A friend sent me to Bodyrock, which is a fantastic resource for moves and routines that will have you panting and sweating buckets in under 15 minutes. All you need is a round timer (I downloaded a free application for my phone). Some exercises call for weighted balls, duffel bags, or dip stations, but I’ve been able to MacGuyver most accessories from household items. If you’re staying active, it’s easier to silence all the voices (internal and external) nagging you about those festive cheese balls.

Personally, I build room for indulgences into my mentality. Rigid abstention simply doesn’t work for me. When it comes to food, I’m a sensualist; from smooth butternut squash soup to crispy fried shallots, I treasure taste and texture. I don’t think there’s anything intrinsically virtuous in not having dessert. But there are those who think it’s their business that you’ve had second helpings of cornbread stuffing. What makes it their business? Unless they’re your doctor… absolutely nothing. People love to lecture or advise. When I’m feeling charitable, I tell myself it’s based on good intentions. If I’m annoyed, I tell myself that they’re too insecure to enjoy a treat guilt-free, and they’re trying to share the guilt. But guilt is one present I won’t accept this year.

The best defense against a guilt onslaught is to simply not engage. Anyone asking “should you really be eating that?” doesn’t really care about the answer. They just want you to deal with the question. A gym that puts a “don’t look like Santa– work off that bowlful of jelly!” sign in its window just wants your foot in the door and your membership dues in the accounts. Don’t fall for the guilt. You know your body. You know that whether you had roasted kale and lentils for dinner, or three candy canes and a double serving of latkes, you are in charge, and you don’t need to answer to anyone. Treating yourself one night isn’t the end of the world. Having a gingerbread snack attack isn’t going to undermine all your workouts, healthy recipes, and year-round badassitude. This year, give yourself the gift of self-confidence.

The next time you experience someone’s guilt onslaught, don’t buy into it. Instead, imagine a big red light and stop that negativity in its tracks. Then replace the guilt and stress with a you-positive message. It can be anything from “I rocked that Zumba class today” to “I make a kick-ass mulled cider!”
In the next few weeks, I’ll be posting a bunch of recipes, exercise tips, and tricks for making this season a time of light in the darkness.
Happy holidays!

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