Today, the boyfriend said to me while we were on the train: “I am amazed by your thighs.”
No, this is not some R-rated conversation. We had been talking about my weights selection for the BodyPump class. I was relating to him the story of how a Caucasian woman had stared at my load for the squat track with a disdainful look on her face. If speech bubbles could be seen, hers would say, “Let’s see you squat with those weights, girlfriend.”
Well, I trumped her with my combined weight of 17kg (8.5kg per side on the bar), as compared to her miserly 10kg. And in other tracks, my weights were either equal to, or more than hers. So beat that, sister. Yes, you who made sure to glance in my direction every time I changed the weights on my bar.
I know it’s evil to feel so competitive but I can’t help it! It’s in the family, I swear. I honestly think that for a skinny twig like me, I have come a long, long way and I am immensely proud of myself for being able to carry weights that women twice my size would think twice about. Plus, I have finally put on a teensy bit of weight and that makes me really happy.
Sexy thighs, anyone?