But at the end of a freaking surreal year, it may be just the envoi we need here.
Bonus cool: the glass artist, Jen Detlefsen, is the Navy Vet daughter of Secretary of
Strip Mining the Interior Ryan Zinke, who does not seem to share her father’s politics.
The Princess Industrial Complex isn’t going anywhere. Instead of fighting against a landslide of pink, I choose to rewrite the narrative of what it means to be a princess, and in doing so reject pink’s stigma as a color of weakness and frivolity. Enter a decadently adorned, glittering space in which femmes of all types are welcome to build strength, backbone and confidence. This journey is just getting started – get your glow on and share how you #liftlikeaprincess with me.
Not really something I plan to try (I am across the street, up six flights of stairs and on the other side of the building from femme, and still remember being the butchest thing and the only chromosomal female at a cookout hosted by a trans woman and her friends). Though I could get behind one of those cast glass kettlebells — two of my favorite things in one package (glass art and weights). If only they weren’t pink. And if only Virginia Beach weren’t at the other end of the state.
May you have the power to lift all your burdens lightly in the New Year.
There is at least one other gym rat at my new gym. He looks to be in his early thirties, wears his facial hair in that indifferently neglected mode which probably requires a great deal of cultivation, and has a remarkably solid ass. I mention this not as a dilettante of men’s asses but as an observer curious about his workout. You do not get a set of cantaloupes like that without some investment of energy. I have low gluteal insertions and a tendency to a flat back, which undercuts your butt work, so I am always looking for ideas.
So far though the one interesting thing I have seen him do is toss a kettlebell. I have now mastered the swing thing that you do with these, which is bloody awesome. You hurl the thing back between your legs, then go with the Newtonian rebound and beyond to a standing position, locking your thighs and rear while bringing the bell up to shoulder level for a Nijinsky moment before hinging down again. The first set of fifteen you do feels like candy. You start the next set one minute by the clock after you started the first. And the next. And the next. After five of these you are sucking wind, both hands on your knees, every ounce of used air blasting out of the bottom of your lungs. I love it better than chocolate.
The gym rat had a variation on this. He was swinging the bell up with one hand and catching it in the other before going down. I had to watch him through a couple sets before I was sure of what I was seeing.
I do this with hairbrushes, for some reason — I always grab the brush in my left hand, bring it up to shoulder level and let it go before grabbing it with the right. I have no fecking idea why. The airborne moment for a twenty pound kettlebell, which is what I’m currently using, must be far briefer. I want to try, but I have to wait until no one is around, in case I fuck it up.
I have to remember to not try to brush my hair with it.
I am getting the measure of some more of the new toys at Gold’s. I think the training staff have gotten used to the unholy gleam in my eye when I ask them how this or that gadget is used. I have one very basic kettlebell routine under my belt, I think, or rather not since you don’t wear a belt with kettlebells, which frankly scares me. And then there is this thing that kind of combines bodyweight resistance with bondage. It appeals to my inner kinkster.
Sorry about the awful rap music, but it was the briefest representative video I could find. I can’t do the jumpy stuff yet, but even an international-style squat with these things will put a massive hurting on your hiney if you are willing to drop below parallel. Since I am still kind of jammed up from my 2012 hip subluxation (which is why I can’t do the jumpy stuff: it hurts), I haven’t gotten a squat down to that level in months, but this thing lets me do it. I just need to get my weighted vest back from the Reptile Guy who borrowed it to do dips off his kitchen counter, so I can get to burnout in less than thirty reps.
I don’t even do flying dogs with kettlebells as a rule. Then along comes this.
I am humbled.
Trying to imagine the Olympic event.