How’s my form?

Along with running I’m also following these insane 100 push-ups, 150 dips, and 200 squat challenges I heard about from the Speed Skating Mom. That’s right…I caved to peer pressure because I. am. weak. Like literally weak. You have to prod to find the muscles in my arms. The squats I added because who can’t use some help in the derrière?

Which brings me to form. I have none. I can’t do a real push-up to save my life so I’m doing what I like to call the modified version. Or girlie ones as Bou mockingly says. Zip it kid or I won’t feed you. A few days ago I asked D to watch me doing a few push-ups and let me know if my form was good. Was I hunching my shoulders? Was my back straight? Legs and arms properly placed? It was an athletic related question.

The response I got was, “Oh yes. Your form is great.” Imagine a low-pitched voice and a half grin and yup…you have it. I got a very male response. Not going to lie…despite my firm belief that we as women create our own joy, self-worth, and success, you won’t find me going all feminist ass-kicking ninja on D for this. I like being ogled at by my husband.

But I have learned a lesson, or three:

  1. Don’t ask for input on form when wearing Lululemon yoga pants which have magical properties.
  2. Despite having 2 kids, being 40ish, eating more than enough chocolate for a small village by myself, and almost 16 years of marriage my husband still looks at my form.
  3. Men really do have one-track minds.
It's all about the form

This is not me. I wish it was me. Maybe some day it will be me. But not today.

Kat @ jackstrawlane

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