My Weapons of Choice

October 26, 2011

In a previous post I wrote about how I am blessed with an inner cheerleader.

Last week that peppy little minx cheered me right into my karate uniform that had lain untouched for three and a half years. First let me say that a karate uniform (a.k.a. gi) would give LuluLemon a run for their money when it comes to comfort. Unlike yoga pants, a gi hides a multitude of doughnuts sins and is therefore my favourite thing to wear. Its comfort however did nothing to alleviate the nausea that accompanied the thought of going to a class. But I went.

I chose a weapons class to go to for a couple of reasons. They are usually a little less intense when it comes to conditioning, and you know what you’re getting, or rather, what you are not getting – no sparring, no self defense, no jump kicks. As much as I was very nervous about taking the class, it was like riding a bike after I actually bowed in and entered. I warmed up, stretched, and prepared myself to eat a huge helping of humble pie. Don’t get me wrong, even when I was training often I would prepare to eat humble pie, it’s part of the sport for me.  And did I eat humble pie? Well, yes, a little. I hit myself with my bo (5′ long stick). Twice. And my shoulders were crying from spinning that stick around. But so what? I was there for me and it felt awesome. My best moment though was at the very end of class.  All the other students performed in front of the class and I had the choice to go up too … or not. I got up there and did my thing. I feel like in that moment of saying “yes” to doing something I was queasy about doing, I said yes to so much more. Now the word “yes” is among my weapons of choice.

Where are my pom-poms?

October 21, 2011

Like most other people, I have an inner critic. She’s stealthy and persistent. However, I am also blessed with an inner cheerleader. She’s feisty, loud, and has delusions of grandeur.

My inner cheerleader has dominated for most of my life. Even after I had three babies my cheerleader took good care of me. She told me that I needed to give to myself so I could give to my children. She told me that no one can force guilt on me. If I bore the burden of guilt, it is because I agreed that I deserved it, something she would never let happen. Most of all she reminded me that I am an example to my daughters about how a mom should treat herself.

When I had baby #4 something happened to my inner cheerleader. She got a little quieter. I’d tell the whole sad story of how I lost her for a while, but now that she’s back she won’t let me. I can say that while she was away I was like an agitated bottle of champaign. All the fizz and bubbles were locked up inside just waiting to either burst from the pressure, or for the cork to pop. The combination of reading Sharon DeVellis’ posts about speed skating, the Blissdom Canada conference, and a little shaking of the bottle on my part resulted not in a exuberant explosion of positivity, but more of a deafening “get off your ass woman and just do it”. Whatever “it” I choose, she’ll be there rooting for me. Take that inner critic! Rah, Rah, Rah!