Friday, September 25, 2015

Muscle Control

So I hit the gym as usual on Thursday and felt like I was looking good, feeling good and ready to challenge myself.  The gym can be a competitive environment and I don't just mean as in "Who is the strongest"?  It's the girls who are most competitive with each other, and it has almost nothing to do with strength.

Normally I'm not the jealous type either in any way.  Non-competitive, non-jealous.  I'm a free spirit and I like to think of others that way - we're all unique, we all have a specialness about us.

But I guess we all have our moments.  Like the big bullies in the school yard who find out one day that there's always going to be someone bigger and scarier than they are, even when they think it's impossible - that was sort of how I felt when I saw Jennifer.

Really - even her name was perfect.  She was tall, like me.  She was fit, like me.  She even had the same brand of workout clothes on that I wear.  She was blond - not like me.

I've always enjoyed being a brunette.  I've even made my hair darker at times just for that deep, sultry, exotic look.  I never wanted to be a blond.  They're so common.  But her long, straight ponytail seemed to be attracting attention.  Maybe it was because she was flinging it around and people were afraid to get whipped with it.  I was working out next to her at one point - a little weightlifting.  A little competition, shall we say.

She was pulling more weight than me at one point and I just wasn't going to have it.  Oh hell no.  So, I went 5 lbs. above hers.  I hurt myself.  Thankfully not then and there.  But by the time I drove home, my upper arm was already tightening.  I pulled a tendon or something.  By the time night time rolled around I couldn't even pick up a glass of water without feeling pain and there was a big knot just under my muscle.

After Jennifer finished pumping her man arms until everyone was looking at her, she put the last weight back in the holder and pulled out her ponytail, shaking her head like she was in some shampoo commercial.  I must have "tsk"ed without knowing it, because my trainer friend, Kevin, said, "C'mon Ashley, pay attention."  Feeling embarrassed now because he said that loud enough for all to hear, it only added to my fire.  That's when I think I lost it and over-pumped my iron.  I'm not sure if it was the bigger weight or the push afterwards, but either way, I screwed up.  And I should have known better.

Well, after a night of aspirin, some cold and some heat and a day off from the gym, I'm feeling better.  That's my stroking arm for goodness sake!  My dominant arm that does just about everything for you and for me.  I let my petty feelings f'up my livelihood and I got injured to boot.  Screw that.  This is not a good feeling for me.  Now I'm just mad at myself.

I'm not sure why I shared this with you - maybe to show my more vulnerable side - I know I try to act all stoic and vulnerability is usually saved for the bedroom, but I guess we're all alike in one way - we're human. 

Will I let that bleach blond B get the better of me next time?  I highly doubt it.  I can flip hair and turn heads like the rest of them.  From now on, the only one who gets the better of me is you ... that's part of the fun, isn't it?

As for my muscle control - we all know that I have other, more intimate muscles that are quite remarkable.  I love to brag that I can make you spill without having you move a muscle - it's those hidden ones you have to work on, and the payoff is usually quite substantial.  :)

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