Whoa! Look at those biceps!
I gave my arms to gravity and they landed at my sides, Leave me alone.
No, really. Look at them!
You're embarrassing me.
It's just the two of us.
A wife's arms should never be a bigger deal than her husband's. A husband should never envy his wife her biceps. So I'm embarrassed.
I had been standing at my bathroom mirror, clad in my tank and yoga pants getup, pulling my hair into a pony tail before heading out to class when The Husband walked in and found himself confronted with a pair of beefy chick arms.
When raised to my head, muscles on display, my arms are no laughing matter. Wide is a good word for 'em. Years ago, I was doing lat pulls in the gym and my spouse confessed that my biceps and upper back were scaring him.
Thick.
Thankfully, after years of yoga, my muscles are different now. Though they're not as big, they're certainly not petite, which when you're me and you're my size (and I am) can be problematic.
So far as people go, I'm a small one. Short in stature and midsize in build. Sorta proportional. Except when it comes to my arms and shoulders.
How feminine.
When I moved to Reno, my yoga practice changed and I found myself doing more Vinyasas and balancing on my arms with greater regularity (and stability, come to think of it) than ever before. Things like that have consequences. And for me, the consequence was muscular hypertrophy--size increase. That's just what this body does.
A few weeks ago, during that mad dash to get out the door to work, I grabbed a suit jacket that I hadn't donned since the Reno relo a year and a half ago out of the back of my closet and pulled it on. I slid my arms in and found that I couldn't raise them without flirting with the disaster of rippage. The waist still buttoned just fine. But somehow, since July '07, the sleeves had shrunk.
Musta been the sleeves.
Or deltoid expansion.
And right there, I knew I had to make a choice: the jacket (and the principle of the jacket) or my yoga practice as-is?
If you and I are well acquainted you understand the significance of my choosing yoga over slimmer arms. They're not ladylike, delicate, attractive or the right size for clothes that fit the rest of my body, but my shoulders and arms are a badge of hard work; I've earned them. Proof of my practice.
So I don't care if my delts and biceps are too big for some tops; I love what they can do.
If it's a trade off, I'll take Namaste any day.
Friday, February 6, 2009
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10 comments:
Nice. I would not be upset if my arms were of more interest than my hubby's! I've been wanting to try yoga (heard good things, ya know) and this is actually, surprisingly motivating! Thanks.
Got any stretch marks on those arms? I say use 'em till they stretch.
Ah, something to be grateful for: they're stretch mark free.
Made me giggle. I need pointers on a good yoga viedo for my back, do you know of one? I have a mat so I can yoga at home during quite time.
well said. And off to yoga I am...
I wish I could get into yoga, but sadly, there are no classes here and I don't do video workouts. I choose to run, outside in the beautiful scenery...but that has consequences also...have you seen my ginormous calfs and thighs? Oh yeah...luckily, they'll never be as big as my 6'8" Hawaiian husband because THAT would be scary!
Megan, is he really 6'8"? I mean, I remember him being tall, but that tall?
I guess when you're as short as I am once you get above 6 feed things just blur from there.
I'd rather have strength any day!
Yes, it's true. He is exactly one foot taller than me. He's freakishly tall and I am scared because I think my DAUGHTER got his genes and my son got mine. WOuldn't it be awful if she were taller than him? Poor Aiken...such a pipsqueak. And poor Eva. No one wants to be an amazon woman!
It's Saturday morning and I thought that just maybe you might have posted. Disappointed. Come on, Saturday's are so boring now.
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