On being a very sweaty girl
Jun. 29th, 2010 | 09:03 pm
mood: 
accomplished
I am a very sweaty human. I work out and suddenly, my body decides to eject all moisture via my pores. It is sort of disgusting.
As proof, when I came home from tennis tonight, everything I was wearing, with the exception of my sneakers, were soaked. With sweat. It was nasty. Granted, I biked to tennis and then played several sets in the sun before biking back. But I remain sweaty human being. An active, sweaty, human being.
I have never ever gained that lovely mythical equilibrium touted by deodorant companies, where you are just dewy when you exercise, not drenched in sweat. It generally looks something like this:
I look nothing like that. I look more like this:
When did I learn that it wasn't ok to sweat when exercising? That my body's natural reaction to me being hot is something to be ashamed of. Why do I see so many women in my local gym not exerting themselves to the point of sweating? And those of us who do, it's almost like a secret club. We nod at each other, as if to say, "You're a sweaty human, I'm a sweaty human. We are here to sweat via exercise."
Granted, some of us are more dewy humans. But honestly, why is this a hang up for me? I am human, I like being active which causes perspiration. Why do I feel ashamed of it?
It's one of those ways that you're told you must be a girl or girl like in society. Can't be too active so you sweat a lot but you can't not be active, so you have to find this happy middle ground where you still hate your body for holding you back, but you can't just let go because then the patriarchy will kick you back into line via your female friends, your co-workers, media, and expectations.
So, to that I say, I was active today. I played my best tennis game yet, I biked, I walked, I drank lots of water, and my body is happy and sweaty, and the fact that I sweat through my sports bra and my t-shirt is a goddamn trophy saying I exerted myself and did a good job. That's all that matters, isn't it?
As proof, when I came home from tennis tonight, everything I was wearing, with the exception of my sneakers, were soaked. With sweat. It was nasty. Granted, I biked to tennis and then played several sets in the sun before biking back. But I remain sweaty human being. An active, sweaty, human being.
I have never ever gained that lovely mythical equilibrium touted by deodorant companies, where you are just dewy when you exercise, not drenched in sweat. It generally looks something like this:
I look nothing like that. I look more like this:
When did I learn that it wasn't ok to sweat when exercising? That my body's natural reaction to me being hot is something to be ashamed of. Why do I see so many women in my local gym not exerting themselves to the point of sweating? And those of us who do, it's almost like a secret club. We nod at each other, as if to say, "You're a sweaty human, I'm a sweaty human. We are here to sweat via exercise."
Granted, some of us are more dewy humans. But honestly, why is this a hang up for me? I am human, I like being active which causes perspiration. Why do I feel ashamed of it?
It's one of those ways that you're told you must be a girl or girl like in society. Can't be too active so you sweat a lot but you can't not be active, so you have to find this happy middle ground where you still hate your body for holding you back, but you can't just let go because then the patriarchy will kick you back into line via your female friends, your co-workers, media, and expectations.
So, to that I say, I was active today. I played my best tennis game yet, I biked, I walked, I drank lots of water, and my body is happy and sweaty, and the fact that I sweat through my sports bra and my t-shirt is a goddamn trophy saying I exerted myself and did a good job. That's all that matters, isn't it?
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On dance
Dec. 11th, 2009 | 09:19 pm
location: The couch
music: Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
mood: 
comfortable
I am hardly an expert, so this is going to be an extremely odd post.
Like so many things, it's been sort of drilled into my head that it was something I could not do, because it just "wasn't [me]." For instance, dancing seemed like something "bad girls" did. It involved moving one's body in odd ways, and titillating an audience. Or it was art, like ballet. And since I was fairly certain I couldn't do ballet, dancing was out of the question. This was not helped by me actually having all the grace of a baby giraffe with 4 left feet (I broke my toe tripping over nothing. Tell me that doesn't take some massive stores of awkwardness right there).
To be honest, I never liked dancing in high school or junior high, when most kids get on their dancing shoes. My arms and legs never seemed to want to go where they were supposed to (i.e. not hitting some other poor kid), and not to mention, body issues made me not really want to call attention to myself. I didn't learn to like dancing until I actually went to a club with some friends when I lived in England. And it was fun. The music was loud, I had had a drink, and I got down, awkwardly, with my bad self. But I haven't danced much since, besides doing silly dances in my kitchen (I am a master at silly kitchen dances).
Which brings us to this week. As some of you may know, I recently got a bellydance DVD. After it arrived, it took me about 20 minutes to decide if I really wanted to try it. I am slowly working my way through bits of the DVD, and got to learn how to do undulations today. Needless to say, I didn't tell my parents, because omfg they would lose their shit. And on Wednesday, I went to my first dance class.
Class was fun, but apparently, I am not believable when I say I've never really danced before. As in, apparently I can pass for someone who has had dance classes. I mean, I'm taking the compliment with a hefty grain of salt, because, HA, I'm not that good after two weeks of DVD practice.
But on the other hand, if the instructor wasn't being overly flattering, then there's another thing that I was told I could not pick up with a bit of effort, that apparently I can do and pick up with a bit of effort.
So, neener, parental units. I can totally dance and apparently have always have been able to.
Like so many things, it's been sort of drilled into my head that it was something I could not do, because it just "wasn't [me]." For instance, dancing seemed like something "bad girls" did. It involved moving one's body in odd ways, and titillating an audience. Or it was art, like ballet. And since I was fairly certain I couldn't do ballet, dancing was out of the question. This was not helped by me actually having all the grace of a baby giraffe with 4 left feet (I broke my toe tripping over nothing. Tell me that doesn't take some massive stores of awkwardness right there).
To be honest, I never liked dancing in high school or junior high, when most kids get on their dancing shoes. My arms and legs never seemed to want to go where they were supposed to (i.e. not hitting some other poor kid), and not to mention, body issues made me not really want to call attention to myself. I didn't learn to like dancing until I actually went to a club with some friends when I lived in England. And it was fun. The music was loud, I had had a drink, and I got down, awkwardly, with my bad self. But I haven't danced much since, besides doing silly dances in my kitchen (I am a master at silly kitchen dances).
Which brings us to this week. As some of you may know, I recently got a bellydance DVD. After it arrived, it took me about 20 minutes to decide if I really wanted to try it. I am slowly working my way through bits of the DVD, and got to learn how to do undulations today. Needless to say, I didn't tell my parents, because omfg they would lose their shit. And on Wednesday, I went to my first dance class.
Class was fun, but apparently, I am not believable when I say I've never really danced before. As in, apparently I can pass for someone who has had dance classes. I mean, I'm taking the compliment with a hefty grain of salt, because, HA, I'm not that good after two weeks of DVD practice.
But on the other hand, if the instructor wasn't being overly flattering, then there's another thing that I was told I could not pick up with a bit of effort, that apparently I can do and pick up with a bit of effort.
So, neener, parental units. I can totally dance and apparently have always have been able to.