For as long as I can remember I have fought a tendency to set unreasonable or oppressive goals that I then fail to meet. Wanting to break out of this cycle, I looked for a project that I could not only start, but complete as well. Continue reading
This gallery contains 32 photos.
After finishing my book, which is now in the hands of external referees, I realized that many photographs—taken by the incomparable artist and designer Patrick J. Reed—could not be included in it. I think his images offer feminist interventions in the often heteronormative, … Continue reading
As I write this I am three weeks away from my first figure competition—it is officially called a ‘championship’—desperately trying to slow down, rest more, and perhaps even sleep the required eight hours per night instead of my usual five. I am tempted to recite my ‘to do’ list but won’t risk boring the crap out of you (even more than usual). Just take my word for it that I work many hours as a snooty professor before heading off to daily tanning sessions, double cardio workouts, posing and walking practice lessons, and weekly appointments with both MHS, a massage therapist, and a local chiropractor. Yesterday after writing, working out, and completing a strenuous yoga class, in which I triumphantly did not fall asleep during savasana, I went to the see this skilled, empathetic back doctor, and she gave me a good going over, placing her heavy knee on my right hip Continue reading
Please consider this entry your personal invitation to my post-competition brunch. While most bodybuilders dream of what they will eat after their gruelling diets have ended, I fantasize about the foods I will prepare for friends. I can’t help but recall with pride the brunch I staged after returning from Montpellier last summer. I made, among other dishes, ten-layered crespeou, ratatouille with fennel, and creme brulee, already described in a previous post called ‘Baking as a Political Strategy.’ Laid out on a yellow tablecloth with matching linen napkins I had purchased in Toulon, this meal for sixteen featured opaquely purple eggplants, shiny spiced olives, piles of glowing lemons, bunches of green basil, freshly chopped mint, and darkly alluring dates. In a shocking diversion from bodybuilding protocol, I prefer fresh fruits and vegetables to carb laden meals from the IHOP. And no I will not be going to Boston Pizza after my show in June; or ever. Ugh. Call me a snob if you must. Go ahead, just say it out loud. I care not, for I am feeling pretty damned good after eating my cheat meal today. Returning to a favourite Japanese restaurant, I devoured edamame, grilled asparagus, spinach rolls, bean sprout salad, and chicken teriyaki. I didn’t even bother with the rice, saving up for the yogurt-based dessert I had later, while watching Thor 3-D with my partner. ‘That’s not a cheat, you jackass,’ I can hear G-Smash—also currently dieting—sneering as she recalls her pizza and cinna-pie feast. ‘Oh, really,’ I pithily retort, ‘ and what about the non-low-fat soy sauce and sesame paste I added? In your increasingly hollow face!’ But enough of the competitive Continue reading
Lately I feel like I am carrying a pig. Here’s what I mean:
A blonde was walking down the road with a healthy looking pig under her arm. As she passed the bus stop, someone asked, “Where did you get that?”The pig replied, “I won her in a raffle!”
With my long dyed hair, visibly muscular pipes, and tight preteen skinny jeans (now size 3), I too look like a bimbo. At least, that is how I am being treated by a growing number of people. Continue reading