This is going to be a long and rambling post, so hold on.

I met baronalejandro at Lilies War and we hit it off reasonably well. As most of us do, we connected later on LJ. On one particular post about fighting over at my SCA blog (baronnemelisend if you wanna see), he replied something to the effect of "If I can help, let me know."

One of the benefits of reaching my age is that you don't have to be coy. If someone offers help, pride and modesty are seen only as hindrances, not virtues.

He said words to the effect of "We'll have you knocking out huscarls in three months and breaking the arms of the Chivalry in six." Not only did he encourage my goals, he capped them. When I said "Gee, I can't do that," he said "Yes, you can." From then on he refused to hear me when I said can't. He got me all excited about possibilites, and yes, I drank the Kool-Aid.

He's been incredibly helpful in working out a routine for me, motivating me, and not taking my bullshit. What, I can hear some of you saying, couldn't you do this on your own?

Well, no.

I'm one of those people who, apparently, need a trainer. I've been lifting off and on (mostly off) since I was in my 20's, but I've been very spotty about it. It wasn't until I hit my late 20's that I realized that I could do anything I wanted to do and that my previous lack of sports experience, skill, or interest was no real bar. Yeah, so I had that knowledge and did nothing with it, except go have two kids via vaginal delivery, one without an epidural.

And then eventually I found the weights again, with help from Krista's stumptuous website. Her Butch Up! rant was especially helpful.

So I was doing weights occasionally, learning more, but mostly wishing and sitting around on my ass. Until now. Now, I'm scurrying around doing weights regularly, and--holy God--actually training to enter a 5K race this November. If someone had said to me at the beginning of the year that I'd be running in such a thing, I'd've laughed myself right out of my computer chair.

I need someone to be accountable to. Someone who knows just how difficult the goals ahead of me are, who knows that I'm not doing this only to be healthy, or only to fight, or only to (Inshallah) get smokin' hot.

Not to mention someone who isn't scared of women lifting weights.

Aha, now we get to it.

Reading through orbitalmechanic's iron adventures has reminded me all over again of the freaky prejudice against women lifting heavy.  I keep thinking it's a thing of the past, or only among certain folks (you know: They).

I'm reminded of all the times I've posted a picture of a woman bodybuilder only to have it met with tsking and headshaking and wow, she looks gross.  She looks like a guy.  She doesn't look feminine.  Etc., etc., ad nauseum.  Not to mention, You want to look like that?  Why?

Why. 

Here's Lenda Murray.



Flipping amazing.  Lenda Murray has won Ms. Olympia 8 times.  The last time was in 2003, when she was 41 years old.  She took second the next year, when she was 42.

This is Dina Al-Sabah.



Dinah Al-Sabah has ovarian fortitude the likes of which I can't even comprehend.  She's a figure competitor, which is more accepted than a bodybuilder, but still.  You can't tell me she didn't build that body.

Valentina Chepiga


Andrulla Blanchette


How could I not want to look like these women?

Of course, odds are that I won't.  Not because any lack of ability, etc., on my part, but these women have been pros--they have the time, money, and--sorry--steroids with which to pursue bodybuilding at that level.  (With perhaps the exception of Dina, but she's a figure competitor and not looking for what steroids can give her.)

The thing is, though, these women are decried for looking like men.  Well, men don't look like this either.  This looks like human muscle, developed past the norm of what we're used to seeing everyday.

Muscle knows no gender.

And yet even though there are competitions for bodybuilding women, and organizations, there is still enormous pressure on these women to focus on figure competition, or to make themselves seem more sexual for the competitions.  Breast implants.  High heels.  (High heels, of all things, which are antithetical to a fit body!) 

Perhaps the saddest and most absurd manifestation of this genderizing of bodybuilding is the incredible amount of near-pornographic websites bodybuilding women have to get up in order to make money.  For women, bodybuilding doesn't pay out like it does for men.  Shawn Ray and Arnold Schwarzenegger get book deals, endorsement deals, etc.  What do the women get?  Members only websites that promise sleazy photos taken in hotel rooms--or, worse yet, bookings for private wrestling sessions.   Forums and chat rooms that advertise which bodybuilder is available for a muscle worship session.

Even more mainstream avenues for women bodybuilders tend to depict these athletes in ultra-feminine, sexualized settings.  And why?  

It's the same old, same old.  It's not enough to celebrate the accomplishment itself.  The woman is deemed as being of value only if she's fuckable.  So it's not enough to have 17" biceps and weigh 140lbs.  Nope--to be valued, you gotta put on a thong and thigh highs and whatever other trappings are currently soft-wired into the perception of female sexual receptiveness.  

These are all very tricky waters to navigate. 

Remember, the act of picking up a barbell is one of the most subversive acts you as a woman can do. 

Make it matter.