Yesterday I had an indoor soccer game. It’s actually called Futsal- basically a combination of Soccer and Basketball both of which I, at one point in my life, was a badass at. Grammar check there? Alyssa? Anyway- it’s coed. 4v4 and it’s in a tiny little gym that is 20 degrees too hot for anyone to function in without dripping sweat like a fat man at the County Fair.
I use this weekly opportunity to take out a lot of my pent up aggression. There are so many things I get angry about in my daily life- the fact that my shower is consistently cold after 1:00 pm, the weird colored zit on my left shoulder that I can’t figure out how to get rid of because I can’t reach it, and the perpetual feeling that I’m a stereotypical LA failing writer/standup comedian/woodworker.
I get fired up. I was born last in my family, after two men were first raised in my mother’s quaint and fertile womb. Marinating in their testosterone, AKA the ZEUS of hormones according to my book on the Male Brain. The science people say I was exposed to this excess of testosterone while my fetus formed into my creepily delicate alien shape. I was destined to be more of a tomboy than other women. I was born to be a haughty, vulgar, aggressive bitch. And I absolutely love that about myself.
Yesterday, I was particularly fired up because of some FINANCIAL CRISIS SHIT that I love dealing with. In the Futsal game, I decided to take out my rage specifically on this balding man who was a foot shorter than me and highly aggressive. He kept beating me to the ball and making me look like a lanky idiot with my arms flailing about. He kept running into my stomach like a little charging bull. Like the little guy from Hercules with the hooves, the guy who is voiced by Danny Devito. I gotta imagine that as a (presumably straight? He seemed straight) man the last thing you want to be doing with a woman is charging into her stomach like an angry bull.
I bodied up on him a little too hard at the end of the game going after a 50/50 ball that was headed for the wall, when we were tied 8 to 8. He got major whiplash and smacked his head on this metal lunchroom door thing (It’s funny to me that we played soccer in a lunchroom.) I felt guilty, I really did, I didn’t mean to push him that hard. He was totally fine- just annoyed that I’d shoved him and he looked like a little bitch (they called the foul, don’t worry.) I was a little shocked that he was so rattled. I’m hardly intimidating, I drive a Buick LaCrosse and wear Mom Jeans to work.
After the game, one of my male teammates gave me props for pushing up on the dudes. And I realized it wasn’t in my head. I was actually pushing grown ass men around (the other men on the team were normal sized, even huge, as opposed to my tiny victim.)
I thought about it. I started lifting weights in the fall of 2014 after I’d struggled continuously with my diet. I started lifting so that I could eat a lot and still look toned (always valid reasoning.) I started with just the bar on every single lift. I couldn’t even do the bar for several of them. I had muscle but it wasn’t substantial at all- just slight toning from prancing on the elliptical and sad leftover meat from high school sports. Kinda like Spongebob when he puts on those fake muscle arms and tries to lift the barbell. All looks- no power.
So just for reference- I started at 45 pounds for everything, that’s how much the bar weighs. Now I’m lifting 60 pounds over my head repeatedly, rowing 75 pounds, benching 95 pounds, squatting nearly 200 pounds, and deadlifting 220 pounds.
I’m sure if any of my former athletic coaches knew this now they’d hate me, because I didn’t give a fuck in the weight room (I spent as much time as possible just sitting on the leg press chair and sleeping) when I was younger and had a bright future ahead. But now I can do cool strong-person shit like easily throw the ball past midfield in soccer, do a soccer throw-in that looks more like a corner kick, make grown ass men scared of my grip when I shake their hand, hit a softball weirdly far even though I never played softball, free climb extremely difficult mountains on my first try (and thanks to Danica, Alex and Becky you crazy sons of bitches), and emasculate guys who are the same height as me.
Sometimes I feel self conscious because my triceps looks weird as hell, like Scyther the Pokemon.
Or like a weird turtle person hybrid… Idk they look like flippers but they’re helpful? Sometimes I feel self conscious because I’m a bit bulky and feel like no straight man will ever be able to love someone so brutish who also has foot fungus/troll feet.
But overwhelmingly, I feel like a badass. I feel strong, I feel motivated, and I feel confident (most of the time).
The point of this post isn’t to rub my own dick (well that’s not the ONLY point, it is VERY erect though.) I am hoping that someone else reading this might get motivated to find a workout routine that makes them feel like a badass. I know several of my lady friends who started lifting are loving the way it makes them feel. I’m happy to help you find a routine that works for you if you’re interested. Not kidding- message me and either I’ll try to help you or I’ll ask my ripped-ass brother and he will weigh in.
I’m actually going to change my previous opinion on a something. This is an opinion I’ve held for awhile and been very vocal about. Hypocrisy is something I don’t like to own up to, so enjoy…
Spin class is okay. CrossFit, is okay. Yoga, is okay. Running 18 miles in one day, is okay. All that shit is great if it works for you. TRY ALL OF IT. You find what works for you, commit to it, and I guarantee you will earn at least 4 happiness points for your Sim character over time. Who doesn’t want to see their little Sim self leap around with joy? The alternative is that horrible thing where the Sim needs to pee and looks up at you in agony while they wet themselves… Because you locked them in a room and removed the doors to see what would happen.