Beefcake

Yesterday was the third workout of my new weightlifting regime. Inspired by Zuzu, I bought the New Rules of Lifting for Women and have been really enjoying the lifting. I've kind of ignored the protein/diet requirements, I must confess, but I think I might take a look and get on that part of the programme, too. But the main part has been lifting again. I loved it last summer - absolutely loved it. Mainly, however, I benefitted from a friend who was ex-military and who was happy to come and help me work out. I honestly think it helped keep me sane for the Bar exam.

Anyway, I've had a couple of weird experiences that made me think about why I can now deal (or not) with weight rooms. On Monday, TOH and I went to NYU for some squash and, I hoped, weights. But the weight room was full of 20 year old guys sweating and getting in my way and aggressively hustling for benches and it made me realise how zen and calm my gym is. I couldn't handle it and left asap. But yesterday morning I went to my gym and was able to fairly easily get my swell on (and no, I don't grunt to show everyone how jacked and tan I am). It's been great.

But yesterday still had a few low points. Some Random decided he needed to go round and make comments to various women who were working their arses off. One he told was doing things the wrong way round and it just jarred me. Would he be saying the same things to a guy? I thought to myself, bringing back memories of my helpful swimming buddy from a couple of years ago (I can't find the post but, basically, felt patronised and irritated by some guy who had to keep offering me advice). The advice was probably good; she may have appreciated it. But where did it come from? A genuine desire to help, perhaps, but because a woman can't possibly know what she's doing? I really didn't see him offer any advice to any man working out.

Anyway, working out was this unbelievable looking woman who was in incredible shape - tall, muscular, and not a spare ounce of flesh. But not skinny - firm and tough. Exactly the body type I'd be if I could (think a less bony Venus Williams). The same Random decided to joke to the guy working out by her, "I don't know if she's trying out for Scores or to be... I don't know what." First: Really? Second: The woman kicked arse. Barely blinked, and then said that she simply didn't jiggle enough to work at Scores. Awesome acknowledgment of how ridiculously in shape she was and a good putdown without getting into a fight. There's no way I'd have handled it that well. She ruled.