body war

Powerlifting has helped me develop a healthier, closer relationship with my body. I’m endlessly thankful for that. It didn’t happen overnight…it didn’t happen in a few months. This relationship has been forming over years. In an era of instant gratification, not many people want to hear this. But there is something to be said for the long game. There is something to be said for the patience and will power it requires. One can not simply walk in and get immediate change because they demanded it. The real shit takes time.

I’m a small-framed lady—I always have been. I’m on the shorter side at 5 foot 3, I genuinely like to eat healthy things. I’ve dealt with body image issues in the past—predominately in my teenage years and early 20’s. I restricted, I deprived, I tried to sharpen myself down to the bare essentials all in the name of “taking up less space.” Thinking of all the work I put into self-deprivation makes me sad for the young woman I was. I knew better, but knowing didn’t stop the behavior. It took a lot of hard work to get past it, to find control without needing to restrict, to feel okay with taking up space with my physical self. Again, this took some time.

Once I started lifting regulary, the desire to take up “less space” dissipated. Food, long ago seeming like an enemy, was now a source of power. I learned via trial and error to fuel my body for the work I was doing. Leading up to my first powerlifting meet, I indulged in two lunches in hopes of getting my weight closer to the limit in my weight class. I started incorporating intraworkout carbs(namely the wonderful PopTart). Minutes of cardio dwindled down next to nil as the weights on my bar increased. Everything became focused on strength, and being as strong as I could be. On meet day, I was still 5 pounds under the max weight for my class, and I was surprised by that.

After the meet, I started on my 12 week Strong Strong Friends program. I ate to fuel my body, and the work was grueling but I loved every second of it. I love it most because it worked. I gained strength and muscle mass. With these gains, came gains. Even though I’m mostly muscle, I weigh more than I ever have. Some of my clothes do not fit me right anymore. My shoulders strain some of my sweaters. My thighs most definitely push the limits of my pants(jeans kind of feel like a nightmare right now). It is what I was aiming for, but it is also bringing on some feelings that I wasn’t expecting.

While my mind/body connection is super strong at this point in my life, I feel a little foreign in this body. It’s taken months upon months of building it, but seemingly overnight clothes aren’t fitting right and friends are commenting on me appearing jacked. It’s a great compliment, but I’m still feeling awkward. I’m used to inhabiting a body that is just a touch too skinny. I never, in the moment, saw my body that way—I’ve always had a bit of dismorphia when it comes to my own appearance. Now I look back at older pictures and feel shocked by the too-thin arms and bony chest. Buuut I also find myself looking at current pictures wondering where these quads came from.

Admittedly I feel a little disappointed with myself and my internal reaction to these wonderful physical changes that signify a growth in my strength. I assumed I would be completely satisfied and comfortable with the change. I worked so hard for so long to get here, and here I am...feeling awkward and unsure again of the space I take up. I write this because it's true. I write this in hopes of getting the fuck over it. My change in size was a goal, and serves a purpose. So what--I'll have to buy some new threads to accommodate my growth. I think of all the hours upon hours that I've spent pushing and pulling heavy things in the gym. I didn't do it to feel like a stranger in my skin again.

Despite this new realm of "growing pains," my numbers continue to improve and I feel really good. Really, really good. Growth can be tough. It may take an extra minute or two, but my mind will catch up to my body. Trying to be gentle, and focusing on remaining proud. I'm not going to stop lifting. I don't want my spaghetti noodle arms back.