Author Archives: feministfiguregirl

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About feministfiguregirl

I am a 51-year-old professor named Lianne McTavish who receives as much satisfaction from working out at the gym as from publishing my academic research. About eight years ago, I decided to combine my two primary identities (scholar/gym rat) to create "Feminist Figure Girl," a fictional character who both analyzes and participates in bodybuilding. I competed in my first figure show in June of 2011, and then wrote a book inspired by the process, published by SUNY Press in February 2015. In this blog I will write about and consider my ongoing research on the body, while regularly making fun of myself. I recommend that you start reading my first post from August 2010 (available on the home page), instead of backwards from the most recent one, in order to get the full FFG effect.

Priorities

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It is very important that I roast organic chickens on a regular basis.
It is imperative that I roast organic chickens on a regular basis.

Everyone told me that having a baby would change my priorities. That turned out to be somewhat true. Yes, my son is of primary concern, but he has shuffled rather than replaced other interests. Now that my time is tighter than ever—I have always multi-tasked and had too much to do—I have begun noticing which activities remain important in my life, and which ones have been discarded with the excuse that I am “too busy.” You will not be surprised to learn that fitness remains near the top of my list. Yet I was surprised by some of my choices. Below is an accurate list of things that are important to me, and things that no longer make the grade. This confession is based on my actions rather than on any idealized vision of myself. After all, I think that hopes and dreams count for shit. You are what you do and have done, not what you say you are or what you plan to do in the future.

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Getting Back into Shape

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It's all my fault.

It’s all my fault.

It’s hard not to get upset when you start back at the gym after a prolonged period away. I was off for two full months while recovering from a caesarean section, forbidden by my doctor from lifting anything over ten pounds. I was inclined to follow his advice after reading online descriptions of post-partum women who had ripped their stomachs open by training too soon after surgery. Although I had worked out seriously until I was 8 months pregnant, and then in a somewhat lame-ass way until two days before giving birth, I was shocked by how quickly my fitness level declined. Previously I had done shitloads of full chin-ups, but now I am back on the assisted pull-up machine, managing five sets of five slowly with 50 pounds of weight counterbalancing me. And as for full push-ups? Forget it. I have returned to my knees. How the mighty have fallen. It is truly humiliating.

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Fitness Journeys: Guest Post by Hissy Fit

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Ezio

View of Ezio Faraone Park, aka best bootcamp site in Edmonton

At 37 years old, I have the most body fat I’ve ever had in my life. Except, possibly, for when I was in my mid-20s. At that point, my teenage metabolism had all but stopped and the weight was creeping on faster than a basement flood in spring.

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Use Umami to Cut Sugar, Salt, and Fat from Your Diet: A Guest Post by Kick and Glide

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Our fondness for sweets is innate. The taste of glucose goes right to the brain, to the hypothalamus, a primitive region related to reward, emotion and a sense of well being, stimulating the release of dopamine. In other words we are hard-wired to love sweetness. The only way to cope is to walk away, or in my case, run like hell.

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Selfie Madness

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I took this selfie when I was alone in Paris in 2012, apparently in need of validation.

I took this selfie when I was alone in Paris in 2012, apparently in need of validation.

When I was downtown the other day, I saw three teenagers posing in a shopping centre, throwing gang signs—probably learned from a music video—while taking a group selfie. My first reaction was pity. How on earth could a trip to a seedy mall be considered a significant event worth recording? Then I realized my mistake. The resulting photograph was not the point. It was the act of performing for and taking the picture that was important to the teens, enabling them to transform a mundane occurrence into something meaningful. By taking a selfie the truants had both insisted that their lives held value and documented their solidarity. In addition to shaping their own identities, they had refused the dominant narrative of the mall by producing an image instead of consuming one. Maybe. Perhaps my analysis is a little naive? Discuss amongst yourselves.

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