“Wow, have you put on weight? You look awesome!” Said no one EVER. Actually, someone might indeed say that if the person is recovering from a severe eating disorder, which is literally a life-and-death matter. But most women only receive praise if they reduce their size on the earth, not if they increase it.
As I wrote in my previous blog, I know I talk about this a whole lot. But since gaining 15-20 pounds and another size of clothing, I have found that I really have gained tangible benefits, and these benefits are worth talking about. So here we go.
At my skinniest, maybe 145-150 pounds (I’ve always been physically dense), I could leg-press 140 pounds. I was quite proud of that. At my more adult-sized “skinny,” I could leg-press 170 pounds. That’s what an extra 20 pounds of body weight will do for you. But not long after I put the additional 15-20 pounds back on, I raised the weights on pretty much everything, including the chest press, which is one of my weakest points. And now I leg-press 190 pounds. I think that’s awesome.
And lest anyone think my midsection is all fat: my core is the strongest it’s ever been, too. I can hold a plank for several minutes, and that’s something I couldn’t do in college.
One of the things I’ve done with my newfound strength is to challenge myself and have some fun. I’m taking Taekwondo with my six-year-old son, and I’m having a ball. To be honest, I wondered if I’d be up to the challenge. Even though I work out regularly and am quite strong, I worried about hurting myself in an applied martial art. There is no doubt that it stretches you. The kicking alone caused me to discover muscles I didn’t know I had, and my hip flexors complained for ten days straight. But then my body adjusted to this new normal.
Last week, we were practicing some kicking, and the instructor got out some fake “break-away” boards. I easily broke through four of them, and the power of it shocked me a little. But as I’m learning how to defend myself and how to physically cause pain if the need ever arises (let’s face it, that is a piece of what we’re learning), I get a great sense of my personal, physical power. This is not to be abused, of course—with great power comes great responsibility, as Spider-Man knows. But understanding my own power increases my own confidence in all areas. And I do feel good knowing that if someone attacks me, I am learning the skills to take them out. For women in particular, that’s a big deal. It’s also important for my son, who has gained a great deal of confidence (and muscles) from Taekwondo.
I must note here, that when a woman starts to gain her power, she inevitably makes other people uncomfortable. Often these other people are men. A male friend has asked more than once if it was “appropriate” for me to be taking Taekwondo with my son. What he’s really saying is that while martial arts are all well and good for my son, it’s not something he’s comfortable seeing me do. Perhaps he feels threatened. Fortunately, that’s not my problem.
Newsflash: women age. Our bodies change. Our needs change. I had lost a lot of weight on a very low-carb diet, and received many compliments for this effort. But this diet affected my mood in profound ways. My temper tended to be shorter. I was more anxious. Last summer, I ended up on antianxiety medication. As often happens with this medication, I started to gain some weight. I also started to reevaluate my diet. Carbs, it turns out, make your body produce happy hormones. I had been eating very few of those. Along about midafternoon every day, I craved carbs. Why not just give in and eat the damn things? So I did.
Now I eat about three servings of carb per day, which makes my body plumper than the media says it should be. But I’m so much happier. I don’t feel hungry all the time. My mood is greatly improved—just ask my wife. I’m more laid back. Less anxious. And I get to eat my own cookies. Score!
Our society now conflates skinniness with good health, but it ain’t necessarily so. My body mass index is “too high,” according to the calculator. My max weight, it says, should be 164 pounds. I have been at that weight, but I’d have to go back to eating practically zero carbs and living in the land of high anxiety and reduced strength to get there again. No, thank you.
The number on the scale that describes gravity’s pull on my body does not take into account the fact that (I know this sounds clichéd) I have Viking-sized bones, and my heavily germanic DNA is not inclined to smallness.
Given my physical strength and my excellent bloodwork numbers, I’m not too worried about the medical establishment’s one-size-fits-all approach to what a healthy physique looks like.
This may sound counterintuitive given how our society defines a “valuable” woman, but my self-esteem is greater. In the past, if I had put on some extra weight, I’d spend most of my mental life beating myself up about that. Now when I see myself in the mirror, I see a very fit warrior princess. Call me Xena. Seriously, I think I look awesome, and I’m very proud of my accomplishments.
The increase in my self-esteem is attributable to many things, of course, including a shift in my own thinking. I value my strength. I value my power, and the skills I’m learning. I value my good health. I value enjoying my good food. I value enjoying my good food without constantly berating myself about it.
So, I’ve gained all of this along with a few extra pounds. No one else will say this, but I think to myself, “Woohoo! You’ve gained weight, and you look good, girl!”