Thursday,
January 23, 2003
A weighty subject
Hee. It's always nice when you look at yourself in the mirror and realized, "Whoa, there's an indentation there. I've never seen an indentation there before."
This
indentation, by the way, is at the origin point of my deltoids, which is the
junction of my shoulder and upper arm where the bra strap goes (and no, it's
not caused by the bra strap. Jeez, you people).
The backstory: I usually wear a tank top with an integral sports bra during dance class because it smooshes everything together into a secure uniboob (chicks with large racks will understand this, but for the penis-enhanced among you this means that you can bend over, shimmy and do other athletic maneuvers without flashing the class). This sort of top has straps that form a Y in the back -- thus, my shoulder area wasn't covered when I came home from class, allowing me to notice that the deltoid origin formed a distinct curve instead of just flowing straight into the trapezius.
In other words, I now have visible deltoids. Okay, they're not all THAT visible (at least not from the front -- from the back they stand out like rocks when I flex) but they are now distinct from the rest of my arm. Cool.
In fact, I must admit that I'm seeing indentations all over the place. My calves are 75% solid, I'm getting that nice long concavity on the outer edge of my thighs, the dreaded backfat is sloughing off a bit, and when I'm lying down to do bench presses I can feel my ribcage and the bottom process of my breastbone. Now, Cthulhu know I still have a looooong way to go, but there is most definitely continued movement in a downward direction (or as Lyndon put it, "Wow -- you have an indentation running down your spine, and there are dimples at the base. You never had those before").
Heh.
Of course, my biggest problem is maintaining a realistic mental body image while all of this is going on. During class tonight we learned some new steps which require you to undulate along the Z axis as you step. I could feel myself doing it properly, but when I'd watch myself in the mirror it didn't seem as distinct as it did with Isis or some of the other students. So I'd put a little more wally into it until I was doing it as clearly as the others -- and almost collapsed when Isis told us to stop. I keep forgetting that I'm moving a helluva lot more mass than most of those women.
But by Hastur, I can do those moves, even if I do need gallons of Gatorade afterwards, and the nice thing is that they're getting locked into muscle memory now. As the weight goes down, they're just going to get easier and easier to do. Now if I could only break this last adhesion in my right knee (why oh why did they not assign me PT after my surgery in 1984, I ask you?), life would be swell.
Oh, and Steve?
275. Just so you can be accurate next time, pumpkin. Heh, heh, heh. . .