Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: muscles

Making new muscles

I am tired. My body is sore, and I’m having to be careful about working out too hard. Even though I do not espouse the ideal of giving 110%, I can become consumed by a pasison. And, I do get obsessive from time to time. That’s how I was pulled into anorexia (which included exercising seven hours a day the first time I had anorexia), and it’s why I stay with a partner past the point of when I should have left.

It’s partly an obsessive nature, and it’s partly because I was raised to always think of other people I was recently talking with a friend about being empathetic. I used to think it was something I was born with–which was true to a certain extent. But it was also because I was told over and over again that my worth was in my ability to be an emotional dumping ground for others. Specifically my mother and then later, my hypothetical husband.

Because of that, I can now read people very easily. I would say I can read people 95% of the time. The 5% of people who get past me, well, that usually turned out really badly for me.

I don’t do anything by halves. I either went all in or I didn’t do it at all. Things like the Taiji Solo Form are outside my norm. I am not passionate about it, but I have come to appreciate it. It’s the basis for everything else we do in Taiji. And, IĀ  hated it for so long. I could not stand it when I first started Taiji fourteen years ago. It was the first time I stuck to something I hated so much. Why? Because I knew there was something in it. I knew that if I could push through the disdain, there would be something else there.

What I did not know was how long it would take and how much I would rebel against it. I’ve told this story many times, but I added two other classes a week because I could not make myself to practice at home. I would tell myself sternly to do it, and my body would shut that shit down. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses. It’s my own body. How could it not do what I wanted it to do?

It would not do it, though. So I added another class a week. Then another. Then I forced myself to do five minutes of stretches a day. That’s right. It wasn’t even the Taiji, but the stretches we did in the first half hour of class. I don’t quite remember how I started practicing at home. Probably when my teacher pushed me to hold a sword, and I fell in love with it. In fact, I’m pretty sure it was pratciting the Sword Form at home that got me into a daily practice.

I still hated the Solo Long Form. I did not practice that at all. I only did the stretches and the Sword Form. I used to say to my teacher that I was really lucky she didn’t my shit personally. I was the most recalcitarnt, questioning student she’s ever had. But I stuck with it. And I slowly started expanding my daily practice routine.

Five minutes. That was how much I practiced a day for the first few years I was studying. And not even Taiji–but just stretches. Now, I’m up to an hour and fifteen minutes to an hour and a half a day. Half an hour of stretches/warm-ups. I do one section of the Taiji Solo Form a day. Then, the rest is weapons.

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Bagua > baguette

I have OCD traits/tendencies. Plus, I have aspects of ADHD in that I have that hyperfocus when I’m interested in something. I’m savvy enough to know when I’m obsessing, but I’m not always able to cut it short. I try my best, but sometimes, I’m just going to have to blab on and on about it.

It’s interesting. I have ADHD traits as well as autism traits, but I also have off-the-charts EQ. I used to have depression and anxiety as well. It made for a poorly-shaken cocktail of flaws. So I can talk for ages about something I’m obsessed with, but I’m aware enough to know that I’m probably boring people to death. Sometimes, I have the discipline to shut the fuck up, but sometimes, I need to keep talking about the beauty of the Double Saber Form. That is just where I’m at, and I will stay happy there for my whole life.

I have been putting on a song I like (on YouTube) and then letting it just play the playlist it has curated for my entire weapons forms pracitice. I will also do my own curation, meaning, I’ll put on a new video each time an old one ends.

I joked with my teacher that I’m going to do a booty-themed playlist. Why? I mentioned it in a past post that Taiji has given me a booty. It’s not a JLo booty, but it’s definitely firm and squeezable. Thousands of repetitions of Golden Roosters have made my booty pop, and I could not be happier.

Because of this, I want to make a booty-based playlist to do my weapons forms to. Anaconda by Nicki Minaj. Booty by JLo, featuring Iggy Azalea. Rump Shaker by Wreckx-N-Effect, and, of course, the glorious Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-A-Lot, especially the version with the Seattle Symphony. I want to work Lizzo in there, but she doesn’t have a song specifically about her ass, I don’t think.

I want to glorify a part of me I previously hated. I am Asian. I cannot tell you how flat my ass was before I took Taiji. It was almost concave, much to my embarrassment, shame, and sorrow. I had tits for days, but was sadly lacking in the ass department. It’s like

Side note: I was looking at Dance Ten, Looks Three from A Chorus Line. None of them had big boobs. None. Talking about getting a boob job when they had maybe B cups. Asses, yes. Those looked nice. But their boobs were still small. Seriously!

Anyway, back to my lack of ass. It made me so sad because I loved a nice, juicy ass. More cushion for the pushin’! So, after ten years of Taiji, I was ecstatic to see that I ACTUALLY HAD AN ASS. It wasn’t huge, but it was noticeable. And firm. But still squooshy. This was years of different signle posture drills, especially the Golden Roosters.

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Feeling good as hell (nearly)

I’m been feelingĀ  a bit blah lately. Nothing big and nothing dire. Just meh. Like my initials! I’m not completely sure why, but it’s partly to do with it being summer. I hate summer. So much hatred for the summer. I hate heat so much. It’s in the top five of my most hated things.

But, a few days ago, I was literally feeling myself (my ass) and being very happy that I have one now. Again, it’s not as much of an ass as I would like, but it’s there. And my biceps are really making me happy. Plus. Yesterday, I put my hair up in Chun-Li buns minus the turkey leg wrappers and I have the thicc thighs to match. I want to be chunky Chun-Li for Halloween, even if I have nowhere to go.

I’m feeling sassy. And I’m feeling good. And I have no qualms about saying it. Look. I’ve hated my body for decades. I’ve abused it and been mean to it, and I’ve flat-out ignored it. I thought it was grotesque and that it was an abomination upon this world. I live in a culture that fully supports that fat women and people who present as women should be ashamed of ourselves and as apologetic as possible about existing.

Side Note: This was the same when it comes to children. I had made the decision in my early twenties not to have them, and I never wavered. There was so much anger at me for daring to buck the status quo, but even more so because I didn’t consider the status quo worthy of thinking about. I never said this, but I’m sure it came through in my attitude. Any article I read at the time about not having children was ladened with other way to care for children (being an aunt, a mentor, a go-to for childcare, etc.) and reasons why they did not want children. Mostly genetics. Or their mental health issues.

All of this is fine, but I didn’t feel (and don’t feel) like I need to be apologetic or make excuses for not wanting/having children. There is one reason at the top of my list: I don’t want them. I never have. And at this point in my life, I doubt I ever will. I did have other reasons on the list (I’d be a terrible mother, we don’t need more people, it’s bad for the environment, etc.), but I really think the only reason you should have kids is because you actively want them.

Back to my body. I’ve been told I’m fat and gross by my mother since I was seven. Hm. She was also the one who gave me so much shit about not having kids. Coincidence? No. She did not specifically say I was gross, but she di say that I would be so pretty if I would lose some weight. When I was seven. She’s 5’2″ and has been obsessed with that five pounds for all her life. Whether she was at her peak weight or not, it was never enough. She definitely had her own body dysmorphia that she foisted upon me.

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